Serendipity
by Adel Mortescryche
Summary: After finishing a case for his department and hitting a bar in Taiwan, the last thing Harry expected was to wake up blank the next morning, only to find a naked silver haired man sleeping beside him... SLASH xover HPKHR SqualoxHarry
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer **– I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating – **For this chapter, around PG-15 to be on the safe side.

**WARNING****S **– Slash, lime, infidelity, drunkeness, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack (haha...) - **Not really a _soundtrack_ as such, just something I was running in a loop in the background while typing this out. Might just add to the 'atmosphere' of the chapter...

Dir en Grey - Toguro  
Darren Hayes - Insatiable  
Apocalyptica - Kaamos  
Placebo - Protege Moi  
Breaking Benjamin - You

* * *

**Serendipity**

**Prologue****//Chapter 1**

God, who turned on the lights?

I groaned loudly, flinging my right hand over my eyes when I found that I was utterly incapable of moving my left. Still shutting my eyes tightly, I slowly tried to turn away from the source of light before even attempting to open them.

Emphasis on the _tried_. I wasn't able to move myself much more than shifting from my side onto my back. Deciding to forgo the motion, I carefully parted my eyelids. And found myself staring at a ceiling that was wholly unfamiliar.

Where the bloody hell _am_ I?

I sighed, giving it up as a lost cause before trying to figure out what exactly had happened last night. Of course, that was before I actually bothered moving my eyes enough to take a peek beside myself. I stiffened almost immediately.

…_Okay. Scratch that. What the _hell_ was I _thinking?!!

Whatever it was, it definitely couldn't have been sober. I eyed the silver haired male that was still lying fast asleep beside me. Again, emphasis on the _male_. Shit. I had to get out of here.

I gingerly tried to pry the guy's fingers from my left hip, seeing as it was stopping me from getting out of the bed. And also tried my level best to ignore the fact that I was naked under the sheets. I'd just about managed to shift about two fingers from their vice-like grip before a slight tremble went through the hand. I stiffened again, praying that the guy wouldn't get up. No such luck, though.

Thankfully, he snatched his fingers away immediately, slamming the hand over his eyes and muttering a harsh curse under his breath. Italian, I noticed bemusedly. A bit out of place, though no less than myself. Not looking a gift-horse in the mouth, I sat up quickly, dragging a sheet over my waist. Though, if I was reading this particular scenario correctly… there wasn't really any use in trying to act modest. I bloody well woke up _naked_ next to the guy. God, I didn't just think that…

When the guy finally lifted his hand to stare at the ceiling as well, I cleared my throat. The reaction was immediate. He shot up like someone had, well… _shot_ him, turning to stare at me. I raised an eyebrow, trying desperately to gain some control over the situation. The two of us stayed silent, trying to size each other up. After what seemed like a few years, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, he ground out a curse under his breath again. My second eyebrow rose to join the first.

"Um… Let me guess. Your mind's blank too?" I asked him, using Italian since he had been cursing in the language ever since he'd woken up.

He looked up to stare at me again, his grey eyes narrowing slightly. Then, he let out a low laugh that honestly sounded more like a bark.

"You too?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. I nodded, figuring I had nothing to loose in being truthful.

"So, what's your name?" he continued, an almost lazy smirk settling on his features. I treated him to a scowl, getting out of the bed to move towards the window. I made sure that the sheet was still tightly wrapped around my waist.

"Does it really make a difference?" I shot over my shoulder, staring through the glass. I was slowly starting to recollect something about the night before, though whatever was coming back seemed to be a crazy mix of smoke, gunshots, mind numbing alcohol and _more_ than mind numbing _heat._ I had to fight to keep my cheeks from flushing. He stayed silent, though I could still feel his gaze boring into me. We stayed like that for a bit longer before I caved.

"Harry Potter," I muttered, making him snort.

"British?" he asked amusedly, and I shot another scowl over my shoulder. He was kind enough to treat me to a wide, almost obnoxious smirk. Arsehole.

"Italian?" I answered in kind, making him laugh.

"Very good," he murmured, speaking in English this time. I made a small sound of surprise, turning around to lean against the window pane. He was still staring at me. I firmly ignored any memories that gaze was unearthing in my head.

"And?" I asked impatiently. He simply tilted his head a bit more, raising his eyebrow in an insolent copy of my own.

"And?" he said sweetly, making me glare. He sniggered, straightening his form before leaning back on his elbows. He tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling yet again, presenting me with a clear view of his long, pale neck. Covered in faint red marks. That I hazily seemed to remember putting there.

"Superbi. Squalo Superbi." He answered suddenly. I had to pry my eyes away from his neck, only to meet his own. Which were laughing at me. I swear they were. I valiantly held back yet another glare.

"So, what the hell's a British kid doing in China?" he asked, his eyes still locked on mine. Ignoring my better instincts, I glared at him anyway.

"I could ask you the same. What's an Italian doing in China? Not sightseeing, definitely." I said coolly. He seemed to be sizing me up for some reason, before he snorted loudly and turned away. I was about to ask again, when the words were lost somewhere between my larynx and mouth. I could only stare slack-jawed as Superbi smoothly slid off the bed, completely ignoring the fact that he was about as naked as the day he was born. Sadly, I was unable to bring up a similar level of indifference. I could almost _feel_ my mouth go dry.

The arsehole seemed to know exactly what was going through my head, shooting me a shrewd look over his shoulder before that damnable smirk appeared again. He didn't say anything else, simply choosing to sashay his way towards the door in the right corner of the room. Presumably the bathroom.

The door was opened and shut with a _click_ that seemed far too loud within the confines of the room. I was left alone to myself, but I really couldn't tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing, especially with a guy I had undoubtedly slept with the night before moving about in the bathroom. And I couldn't even remember what exactly had _happened_ the night before.

I groaned loudly, leaning back and banging my head against the window, once, twice, and only stopping when I figured that my brain was already damaged enough without me causing any _more_ brain damage. That was what Ginny always said, anyway. That one thought was enough to bring all others to a standstill, as a feeling of horror slowly spread through me. Oh, God.

_Ginny._

I couldn't help but slam my head against the window once more, just for good measure. Just what the _fuck_ had been going through my head last night that I managed to land up in what looked like one of the Ministry safe houses along with some guy whom I had never laid eyes on before and proceeded to sleep with when I had a fiancée waiting for me back home? Obviously nothing _remotely_ sober or sensible, _that's_ for sure.

I frowned delicately (actually, let's say that I frowned _pensively_), still trying to clear the memories that were slowly coming back one after another, and tried to piece them together in some semblance of clear thought. And, just like that, everything seemed to fall into place.

*

The place was filled with smoke. There were a bunch of girls that were sitting in one of the cubiclesto the side, giggling loudly and coquettishly as a couple guys that were stumbling past stopped toeye them curiously. The whole damn joint smelt, of smoke, alcohol and various other unmentionablesubstances. Oh, that was an interesting word. Unmentionable. Or substances. They brought to mind_ many_ interesting things…

Harry Potter sniggered mindlessly, knowing for a fact that his brain was slowly shutting down. Hewas quite the intelligent drunk, if he did say so himself, managing tosound_ not drunk_ despite howmany pegs went down his throat, but his mind never seemed to agree with what came out of hismouth. He managed to_ sound_ intelligent and stone-cold sober. Never really meanthe_ was. _Actually, his mind slowly seemed to be coming down from its alcohol high. He frowned. That wouldn't do. He put up a hand, signalling the nondescript bartender to bring him something else. He was too far gone to really care what was being put in front of him. The bartender was happy to oblige. Just as long as he paid. He'd promised that he would. Surprising that they'd actually accepted his word. The place seemed far too seedy to actually accept what people said just on their word. He shrugged to himself. What the fuck. As long as he got something to drink. He knocked back the weirdly coloured concoction in front of him and signalled for another. God, he hoped Ron never found out about this. He never liked it when he gave in to his urges to drink himself to unconsciousness. But, he couldn't help himself. It was a bad month. Too many people had died this month. He was simply drinking in their memory.

'_Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that mate. The least you could have done was come back home after finishing your mission and drunk yourself to oblivion when you were here with people to keep an eye on you!'_

He pouted, and gave his voice of reason the finger. It seemed to sound an awful lot like a merge between Ron and Hermione. Now that was a funny picture. Ron and Hermione scolding him in chorus. He gave an involuntary grin.

"Shit. I thought this corner was empty."

He blinked confusedly, and turned to the side. His eyes met a black jacket. He blinked again, and let his eyes travel up the jacket till they were met by a pair of narrowed grey eyes. He offered the guy a smile, making him blink in turn before a bemused smirk pulled at his lips.

"You're out of it, aren't you." Harry snorted.

"You, sir, have no right to make such a comment. I get the feeling you are, too. Your eyes aren't focusing completely."

The silver haired guy blinked, this time in complete surprise, before a barking laugh seemed to tear from his throat.

"Shit. Just my luck. You're a fucking smartass when you're drunk."

"And you swear a lot. Did anyone tell you that you swear a lot?" Harry asked contemplatively, twirling a finger through his hair. It was starting to get too long. He frowned. Where was the knife or a pair of scissors when you actually needed them? He blindly grabbed the glass that had been set in front of him and knocked it back, ignoring the squawk from his right.

"VOOOOOOOOOOOOIIII! That was supposed to be mine!"

"Then get another one, mate. Especially since you look like you can afford it. Really shouldn't be wearing snazzy tuxes when you walk into places like this, you could get mugged." Harry offered seriously, nodding once, before cheerfully turning to the bartender and asking him to cook up some other miraculous alcoholic wonder. The guy beside him was staring at him, caught somewhere between an expression of incredulity and a glare. He finally settled on the glare, and loudly demanded another drink. Having been dealing with Harry for the past three hours, the bartender was quick to push another in front of the silveret without any questions. Said silveret was quick to down his own drink before Harry tried to grab it again. The green-eyed man couldn't stop the smirk that crossed his face.

"So, the fuck are you doing in this place? Doesn't exactly seem like a place a pretty thing like you would end up."

Now_ tha_t made his amusing thoughts stop short.

"Could you repeat that? Because, I seem to get the strange feeling that you just called me 'pretty'" said Harry slowly. The idiot had the audacity to shoot him a sly smirk before hiding it in the new drink that the bartender had brought him. Rather than guzzling it down like the last one, he sipped at it almost contemplatively.

"Did I? Oh, yes, now I remember. Guess I did."

Harry scowled, before deciding to ignore the odd comment. Not like he was going to see this strange guy again after his little 'let's get dead drunk' session ended. He'd be back in London, and would be staying away from China until the Triads cooled down enough to ignore him the next time he was in town.

"Anyway, what I'm doing here is none of your business. I could ask you the same."

The guy eyed him for a couple of seconds before shrugging easily.

"Fair enough. I was getting bored. Just got done with my job, my employer acted like an utter brat over the phone, I got pissed, and decided to turn the metaphor into reality to get back at my employer. That make sense to your pretty little self?"

Okay,_ now _theguy was getting personal.

"The fuck do you keep calling me pretty for, anyway? Just how bloody sloshed_ are _you?!!" he demanded grouchily. The guy snorted in amusement, and raised the glass to tip it towards him.

"Obviously sloshed enough to keep teasing reactions out of you, fucking Brit."

Harry shot him a glare, knocking down what was left in his own glass. He absently noted that the concoction had been a strange neon purple this time. He might have sniggered, but the grey eyed bastard beside him was taking up all the mental processing power his alcohol soaked brain could handle.

"Why are you dressed in a tux anyway?" He asked curiously, completely forgetting what they had previously been discussing. The guy rolled his eyes and downed the contents of his glass.

"Not a tux. It's a suit. Kind of like a uniform in my field."

Harry could only stare at him. The guy offered him a careless grin, and Harry was awed at the difference that it made. He was about to comment on it, when there was a loud crashing sound. Thegirls that had been giggling before were now screaming loudly, along with everyone else in the bar. Harry shoved away his glass, noting that the silver haired guy had stiffened before fluidly rising to stand beside him. Huh. The guy was obviously trained for some kind of violent situations. Fancy that. His plans to comment on that little fact were interrupted when the cause for the crash was suddenly upon them. Any plans for voicing anything at all at that point seemed a little superfluous, really.

"Finally found you, you little bitch!" The greasy guy in front of the large congregation hissed out, his accent slurring the words so badly that Harry had trouble understanding. He had been about to comment on it when he was interrupted yet again, this time by his strange companion. Whoproceeded to speak in flawless Chinese. Harry told himself that he wasn't impressed. The guy didn'tseem to be magical in any way, meaning that he had taken the pains to actually_ learn_ the language.

"I'd actually take offence to that statement if I weren't so amused." The silveret almost looked bored. The greasy guy in front looked confused, about to sneer out something when another one of the congregation gave a strange, breathy squeak. The squeak seemed to have made some amount of sense to everyone else, because they all started muttering loudly. The greasy guy- oh, for Merlin's sake! Harry scowled, and started thinking of him as simply 'Greasy'. That was a lot easier to say mentally._ Greasy_ had abruptly gone pale. He licked his lips, before laughing a little_ too _loudly_._

"Oh, this is just too good to be true. Both the men we were after, and they manage to turn up in the same place at the same time!"

Harry blinked, before turning to stare at his companion incredulously. The guy seemed as composed as ever, ignoring the statement with so much grace that Harry started to feel a little out of his depth. Who the hell _was _this guy?!!

"Guess you're in luck tonight, then. You get to take care of us at the same time. What the fuck are you fuckwits waiting for, then?" he said contemptuously, the beginnings of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Harry couldn't see as well as he would have wanted to in the dark of the bar they were ensconced in. He almost wished that he had picked some place with a little more light for his merry little drinking session. Not that it would have made that much of a difference. He could still see the people that were after him in the dark, just as he could sense that a slightly unhinged smile was creeping across his unwitting companion's face. Maybe it was better that the place was dark. There was a blur of movement, and the silveret was suddenly gone from his side. There was immediate pandemonium, a cacophony of screams, gunshots and strange gurgling sounds filling the bar. The previous patrons of the place had long since evacuated, shifting themselves to a less life threatening setting.

Ignoring the fact that his (supposedly) non-magical grey eyed partner of chance was moving too fast to be seen clearly, Harry silently unlocked the safety catch on his twin magi pistols, the closest magical equivalent that the Ministry had managed to come up with to muggle firearms in the recent years. They looked enough like the real thing that most muggles couldn't tell the difference. A much safer bet than removing his wand and shooting hexes and curses at the men. Especially in the mostly muggle setting. He had never been so relieved that alcohol didn't mess with his basic cognitive power. Steadying himself, he held himself still for a moment before loosing himself in the chaos.

There were triad members screaming all around him, some as young as fifteen, and Harry found himself unconsciously regretting the fact that they had to run into him today. Then, catching sight of at least three different people swinging foot-long daggers at him at the same time, most of his regret was sidelined by an innate sense of self-preservation. Twisting gracefully to stay out of range, he levelled his pistols at the men, one aiming in front, and the other aiming behind. Firing both at the same time, a self-satisfied smirk stretched across his face when three shrieks erupted at the same time. Without pausing to take stock of his aggressors' conditions, he moved further into the melee, making sure to keep an eye out for his mysterious, silver haired partner.

As he shifted through the crowd, automatically firing when necessary and using a wandless shield charm when he had to defend, Harry found the time whizzing past him. He couldn't place when the fight had started and when it would end. The men around him seemed never-ending, all of them screaming oaths and falling back on their mother tongue to swear crudely when they found that they were unable to keep the two men down. As he drew back to fire another electricity-laden shot into the centre of the confusion, he noticed that there was more than one body on the ground brought down by violent slashes carving through them. The ground was slick with blood, guts and the sweat and urine of men whose bodily functions had failed them, while the air was rent with the nausea-inducing scent of mindless terror, as more and more of the triad members tried to retreat, but found that they had caged, and in turn _been _caged, by two _very_ dangerous men. Or, at least, one very homicidal swordsman, if the slash wounds on the some of the corpses were anything to go by. Harry choked back a reflexive scream when one of the bullets that had been fired in the madness managed to strike him in the thigh. Collapsing against the bar counter, he quickly fired off a shot at the closest man that seemed to be considering coming after him. As he dropped to the ground screaming, Harry turned his attention to the violent exchange taking place to the other end of the fight.

The silveret that had been sitting by him before was now a whirlwind of fluid, graceful movement, a long sword having materialised from no where (at least, from no where that he had noticed…), and it was being put to good use. Wincing sympathetically as a particularly brutal slash managed to rip one of the man's opponents in half, Harry took a sobering breath before straightening. The number of members around them was finally starting to come down, as the more cowardly members decided that they would rather face a furious leader than the pair of maniacs they had been ordered to either kill or capture alive. Just beginning to move away from the counter, Harry was startled by the shout that rang out, reverberating through the bedlam that encompassed them.

"Shit, look out you fucking idiot!"

Cursing himself for his lapse in concentration, Harry spun around, but he instinctively knew that it was too late. One of the men had finally used the grey matter in his head, and had managed to jump onto one of the various tables still spread throughout the bar. Though his legs had already been taken out from underneath him, literally, he had still had enough time to fire off a shot that was headed straight for the black haired wizard. Harry stiffened in shock, not even able to bring his magic to bear. After all this time, and all the shit he had gone through taking down not only Voldemort but numerous other dark imbeciles, he was going to be taken down by a no name triad member that had already been ripped apart by the muggle swordsman he was fighting alongside?

Then, to his disbelief, he found himself being violently shoved aside and out of the main path of the bullet by a rather firm shoulder. His back slammed roughly into the bar counter behind him, immediately causing the multitude of glasses still stacked behind the counter to come crashing down to the ground. The almost musical sound of shattering glass and crystal filled the air, the harmonious noise ringing in the air and continuing to resound through the bar, mixing in with the echoing screams and gunshots. He could only stare, horror-struck, as the bullet meant for his heart tore through the shoulder of his nameless companion. It wasn't nearly as fatal as it would have been in his case, but the fact that someone he had just met had managed to save his life at risk to his own broke something within him. A furious trembling overtook him, his emerald green eyes slowly being tainted by blood red sheen as his head whipped back towards the few men that were still left.

Many of the remaining men had taken it upon themselves to flee during the distraction when they still had the chance. Harry was about ready to whip out his wand and start throwing around some _really_ destructive curses when the silveret abruptly pushed himself up off the ground. He cracked his head from side to side, before a thoroughly demented and bloodthirsty grin spread across his lips. Watching as the men hurriedly levelled their guns at them, Harry's eyebrows rose. He traded a similarly maniacal grin with the man beside him before exploding into motion. The liquid fury running through his veins only served to heighten his reaction time, the magic making him move much faster than he would have otherwise. He knew without looking that the swordsman was moving far too fast. Harry was beginning to wonder if the man was actually a muggle at all.

And then, just like that, it was over. Harry continued to stand over the corpse of the last man he had fired at. Actually, all the men that had been left right at the end had come to a rather messy end. The silveret hadn't thought to hold back at all, while Harry's rage had fuelled his magi pistols with a torrent of electricity doused magic far more potent that usual. The result was a pile of bodies on the floor, the most recent barely holding any resemblance to what had been living, breathing human beings only seconds before. Harry winced, slowly backing away to sag bonelessly against the counter while flipping the safety catches on the pistols. His eyes slid shut, but he heard more than saw the silver haired swordsman comfortably hoist himself onto the counter to perch beside him.

"Hey. You still alive, bitch?"

"Don't call me that. I have a name." he mumbled quietly, pressing the back of his hand against his eyes. The guy snorted, hopping down from the counter to wipe the blood off his sword with a random swathe of cloth left over on the ground from the battle before sliding it back into its unobtrusive sheath.

"Obviously alive. We need to get out of here."

The green eyed wizard sighed, opening his eyes to stare around at what remained of the bar. Nothing had happened to the bar itself, no, but after the slaughter that had taken place that night, it was unlikely that the place would ever open again. He felt a twinge of remorse; the bartender had actually been nice. Hopefully he had managed to get out in one his gaze back to man watching him silently, he found that he was relieved that he wasn't being given an explanation. It meant that he wouldn't have to give one in turn. Taking a last look around the place, and keeping an eye out for any movement, he made a split second decision then and there. They needed to move, and fast. It wouldn't be pretty if the triad after them decided to try and send any more men after them. It didn't seem as though either he or his companion would be able to take on any more men that night. So, might as well get out together, right? Safety in numbers and all that. Chancing another look at the man, he found himself a little alarmed by the fact that he was taking slow, careful breaths, silent though they were. It was almost as though it was difficult for him to breathe…

"Oi. Did one of them get your ribs or something?" he muttered, trying to straighten himself. Statute of Secrecy be damned, he was going to heal the guy before sending him on his merry way. It was likely that he wouldn't have gotten through the night alive if the silveret hadn't been with him.

"No. Chest might be a bit bruised, though. I think one of them slammed something into it." He admitted with a scowl. Harry tried his best not to laugh, finally succeeding in standing straight.

"Come on, I know a place we can go to. You still sober enough to walk?" the brunet commented idly, walking towards the door. He couldn't sense anyone on the other side, so they were safe. At least for the time being. He heard the other man give a harsh laugh.

"If I can kill people, I can fucking walk well enough to get to whatever shitty hideout you have out there." He sneered. Harry snorted quietly.

"That didn't exactly answer the question, bastard. I know that I'm not all that sober, though the walk and adrenaline might very well take care of that."

"Got a point there."

The two of them slouched silently out of the bar, keeping to the walls and staying low whenever they came close to anyone else. The time flew by so quickly that Harry hardly noticed when they had managed to reach their destination.

The silveret beside him gave a low whistle of surprise.

"You got an apartment here?" he asked, staring up at the ordinary looking building and almost managing to sound interested. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, not an apartment. It's a safe house. I know it looks a tad obvious, but my people have their ways of ensuring that no one can find it. Come on."

They both made their way through the front door, Harry quietly nodding to the boy sitting to the side of the corridor. The sand blond haired kid was quick to nod back, his eyes shifting to eye the silver haired male beside him for all of one second before he looked away again. The silveret quirked an eyebrow, but made no other comment. Harry quickly steered him towards the stairs and headed towards room number 13, knowing for a fact that no one else would have taken it. It had become a joke within the active runners in his division, everyone making sure to leave the rooms marked '13' free for him. His companion gave another appreciative whistle when he saw the condition of the room.

"Shit. Your employers must be well off to keep safe houses like this." He commented. He didn't bother to make any more observations, choosing instead to move in and drop down onto the bed, not having any patience for the chairs.

"We need to do something about that bullet in your shoulder. You managed to avoid everything else," Harry pointed out softly, feeling a bit guilty as he shut the door beside him. He dropped his pistols onto the side table, right by the sheathed sword that the swordsman had left behind while stepping in, and stared down at the man. In the light, he could now see that the silveret was actually quite attractive. His features were sharp, eyes narrow and piercing, while his thin lips and brow were currently pinched into a scowl. His previously pristine suit was now drenched in blood, though it wasn't obvious anywhere except on his shirt. He'd managed to loose his coat, tie and a couple buttons during the fight, so his shirt was casually opened at the top. Just enough to give Harry a clear view of smooth, pale skin and the edges of a prominent pair of collarbones.

"Fuck, I think you have more bullets in your leg, bitch. The bullet's not in my shoulder anyway, it managed to go straight through."

Harry rolled his eyes, and silently gestured towards the chair in front of the side table. The other male sighed irately, treating him to a disgusted scowl, before laboriously heaving himself off of the bed. He seemed to drag his feet, obviously hoping that the black haired wizard would drop the topic, but Harry continued to watch him until he was finally seated. He eyed the other, waiting for him toremove his shirt so that he could actually_ check _the blasted wound, but the man snorted in amusement.

"If you think I'm going to agree to you checking me before you actually do something about your_ own _wounds, you're sadly mistaken."

Oh, of all the -! Harry outright glared at him, but he simply tipped his head back to match the violent expression with a steady stare. The staring match continued for a minute or so before Harry finally let up with a huff of exasperation.

"Fine, fine. Will you let me check it if I take a look at them?"

Harry was treated to an easy smile of acquiescence, making him sigh. He ran a hand through his hair,looking away and wondering just_ how_ he was going to be able to heal his wounds without the silveret actually noticing. The sight of the dark mahogany door beside the entrance made him swallow a sigh of relief.

"Give me a minute, I'll be right back. And,_ don't move_.If you have any actual wounds, you'll aggravate them." He said pointedly, making the other man snigger.

"Right, right. _Vooooooooiii_, what do you think I am, crazy?" he threw back, making the green eyed wizard roll his eyes before turning away to check the room on the other side of the door. Which turned out to be a fully furnished bathroom.

Locking the door behind him, Harry was quick to shuck off his trousers, wincing at the feel of dried blood ripping away from his skin and reopening the bullet wound in his thigh. The trousers were a lost cause, blood was a bitch to clean out, magic or no magic, but the wound itself was another matter altogether. Ignoring it for a moment, he made to slide off his shirt to check his torso as well when the sight of his reflection in the mirror side-tracked him.

He stared at the strange image he made in the mirror that spanned the length of the bathroom, shirt half unbuttoned and trousers already on the floor. He'd lost most of his sense of propriety with regard to nudity over an year ago, it was next to impossible maintaining any such feelings while working in the division he was a member of, but his blood spattered visage was more than a little distasteful. He pursed his lips, frowning at the flecks of blood on his shirt that had remained unnoticed in the dark, before sucking in a breath and deciding to ignore it. His silver haired companion's state wasn't any better than his, after all. Why bother?

Turning his attention back to the shirt itself, he undid the rest of the buttons and painstakingly peeled it off, gritting his teeth in anticipation of the pain that came with reopening overlooked wounds but for once, he had managed to get out of an ambush without injuring himself too badly. Not taking the bullet wound in his thigh into consideration. Of course. For some inane reason, the thought of bullet wounds not even being given consideration anymore made him want to giggle like a drunken fool.

He snorted to himself instead. Figures. The fight's over, adrenaline decides to give out on you almost immediately. And, why, hello there Mr. Alcohol. I'm surprised that you weren't completely burnt away by your housemate.

Reaching for the trousers and prying out the wand he had stashed in one of its endless pockets, he racked his slowly dulling brain for the right spell to use and with a wave of the wand, the bullet still lodged in his flesh came ripping out with a squelching 'pop'. He was almost thankful for the deadening effect the little alcohol in his bloodstream had on his consciousness, removing the bullet so roughly would likely have hurt like hell in any other situation. Another wave of the wand ensured that the speed at which the wound was healing had sped up, and after dropping the glorified stick on the counter, he turned to the medicine cabinet to take out some bandages and healing salve. He had a particularly stubborn swordsman outside to deal with.

*

"So?"

Harry offered the man a wry grin, and spun a little white lie. Not like the guy would ever know otherwise… "Nothing too bad. I even put bandages on it. Your turn."

He was treated to a_ Look, _and couldn't help but laugh.

"Seriously, mate. I'm fine. Now, I really need to check that shoulder of yours."

The silveret scowled, and pointedly turned his face away.

"Not your mate. Bitch."

Harry blinked in bemusement, and stepped closer to the man, dumping the bandages and salve on the table beside him.

"I seem to remember asking you not to call me that. I have a name."

"Sure you do." the answer was thrown back in a slow drawl completely at odds with the man's previously sharp and profane wit. Harry stared down at the man's mussed up silver head, wondering why he was acting so weird, when it suddenly hit him.

"Ha, the alcohol getting to you too?" he asked cheekily. The reaction was immediate. The swordsman's face shot up to glare at him, silent, but the glazed over look in his eyes was answer enough. Harry couldn't hold back his laughter, the loud, ringing sound eventually winding down to wheezing giggles, all the while being glared at by a silver haired man he barely knew. The silveret finally muttered a curse and looked away, almost prompting an encore of laughter from the brunet in front of him.

Finally managing to get a hold of himself, Harry tapped his fingers pointedly on top of the bottle of healing salve.

"Jokes aside, are you going to take off the damn shirt, or should I take it off_ for _you?"

"Whatever, you damned bitch." He grunted. Harry sighed, and reached out to start undoing the buttons on the shirt anyway.

Even though he made sure to keep his mind on his task with an almost clinical persistence, he wasn't completely ignorant of the fact that the other man was staring at him throughout the process. Being nice enough not to mention it, Harry lightly tugged at the collar, indicating that the guy should tryand get the shirt off. Which he did, though he_ did_ hiss when the material of the shirt was pulled away from the scabbed over mess on his shoulder. Harry frowned as he inspected it, trying to figure out if the guy had been bluffing when he'd mentioned that the bullet had gone right through. Finally deeming the result as a negative, he reached for the bottle of salve, quickly unwinding the lid and scooping out a dollop to massage into the wound.

The grey eyed male grumbled irately, wriggling in place and trying to get away, but Harry poked him a couple times in the shoulder, making sure to press his finger into the wound, and with a loud curse, finally stopped fidgeting long enough to allow Harry to finish the process of covering the scabs and raw flesh with the salve. Once that was taken care of, he carefully wound the bandages over it, reaching for the medicinal tape he'd brought along to keep it in place. When he was done, he straightened with a sigh, offering the man a smile.

"There, not so painful, was it?"

The silveret stared at him as though he'd grown another head, and snorted. To Harry's surprise, a slight grin twitched at the corners of his lips before it disappeared about as fast as it had appeared. He tilted his head, staring up at Harry for a second or so, and nodded. Harry raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Did anyone tell you that you're really pretty?" the statement was slurred out, words actuallymanaging to smush together, making Harry blink in confusion. Once he actually figured out what the guy was trying to say, he couldn't help but crack a wry grin, unable to find it in himself to actually be irritated with him. The alcohol was obviously starting to get to the guy. He wasactually_ relieved _thatit hadn't really hit_ him _yet. It was bound to sooner or later, though. He just knew it.

"Yeah, you. And, I also remember telling you I didn't want to be called that." He said patiently, staring down into the other man's glazed over eyes. The man frowned, and reached up towards him.

"No, really. You really_ are _pretty." He repeated in drunken seriousness, making Harry snort.

"Okay, okay. I'm pretty. That's all well and good, but you_ really _should consider going to sleep now, it's not a good idea to stay awake with a wound and alcohol in your blood at…the…same…ti- what do you think you're doing?" he wound his sentence to a slow stop, inching his face away from the hand that was slowly reaching up towards it. He batted it away with his own, and frowned down at theman. Who had the audacity to_ smirk _at him.

"Right. That's it. Let's get you in bed-" Harry muttered, reaching out to try and pull him up, when the other man's hand tangled quite firmly in the hair at the nape of his neck. He yelped indignantly.

"HEY! What the hell do you think you're doing?! That hurts god damn it!" he snapped, trying to get the guy to let go, but to no avail. To his shock, he found himself being tugged forward. Wondering where this was going, he put out a hand to steady himself on the back of the chair. The silveret's eyes were directly in front of his own, and it was only now that he noticed that rather than the grey he had previously assumed them to be, they were actually a very light shade of blue. Like the misty rain that fell at dawn. Not that it should be making any difference to him…

"Look, do you mind? If you could just_ let go_, we couldboth consider getting to bed and getting some rest. I'm sure you need to get back to wherever you came from tomorrow morning, and I need to get home myself, so, if you would_ please_-!"he ended the statement in a slightly higher pitch than usual, almost a squeak, because the damned bastard had tugged rather harshly on his hair. Undoubtedly to shut him up. Harry scowled irately. See if he helped any silver haired bastards like this one ever again, life debts be damned!

"For God's sake, man! What is your**problem**?!!" he demanded finally, after fruitlessly struggling against the hold the guy had on him. Honestly, the guy only had a single hand tangled in his hair; the other one was actually resting in his lap. It was starting to get a bit demeaning. He was part of the clean up squad of the Department of Mysteries, like hell some muggle swordsman should be able to disable him with a single hand! Said swordsman was still watching his face silently, a look of almost curious interest glinting in his glazed eyes.

"You're really,_ really pretty…" _he muttered. Harry snorted in disgust.

"Old news, arseho-h-hey, wha-mmph!" his words got caught in his throat, eyes widening in disbeliefwhen the silveret leaned forward to press their lips together. It was sloppy, and more than a little uncomfortable, and he tried his best to lean away, starting to feel as though he'd wandered into some kind of twilight zone.

'And_ this_, my friends, is why one should listen to Ron and Hermione when they tell you to come _home _and get sloshed, and not to get into crazy, random situations, and-' his mental ranting came to an abrupt stop when the guy tugged insistently at his hair. He frowned into the involuntary kiss. No _way _was he going to reciprocate!

The silveret pulled away and scowled at him. Harry was quite happy to glare right back.

"You know, when someone kisses you, you're _supposed _to kiss back…" he deadpanned, though the effect was lost in the slight drunken slur to his words. Harry's eyebrows rose incredulously.

"I'm not going to go kissing every person that goes and jumps me! And, as for_ you_ in _particular_, HELL NO!"

The other man eyed him irately, pursing his lips, before nodding to himself. Then, he dragged Harry down again, locking their lips together. Harry grunted, and tried to shove him off despite the lack of leverage. To his surprise, the guy actually pulled away slightly. Shifting his grip in Harry's hair, he readjusted his hold such that his palm was cupping the junction of Harry's neck and head, and gently trailed his thumb over Harry's lower lip. The brunet stiffened, not entirely comfortable with the feelings the touch of that callused thumb was evoking in him.

"You know, it isn't all that difficult…" the man murmured, his breath hot and moist against Harry's ear. He shivered.

"What would you know…" he ground out; fighting the stupid urge he was getting to catch that thumb between his lips. He felt more than heard the quiet laugh that spilt from the other man's lips as they curved into a slight smirk.

"Oh, I would. All you really need to do is close your eyes and forget everything else."

Harry, much to his disgust, found himself unconsciously following the quiet demand, eyes gradually sliding shut. He could feel those lips spread lazily against his skin, tongue flicking out and rolling around his lobe before he closed his teeth around it. Harry's breath hitched, fingers clenching against the back of the chair.

"Y-you know, you really should stop now. We need to go to sleep and get back to our lives tomorrow," he tried, forcing himself not to lean into the other man's touch as his fingers twisted slightly at the nape of his neck, thumb just barely pulling his lip lower.

"Don't think I want to," he breathed, tugging one last time at the brunet's earlobe before turning his face to face his own. Harry's eyes slowly parted, staring into the other man's pale gaze, before sighing softly.

"We really shouldn't be doing this," He murmured. "We don't even know each other."

"As if that's a valid reason."

Harry frowned, but wasn't able to say anymore as the other man was leaning forward again, much slower than the first time. He trembled involuntarily, feeling those lips gently brush across his, once, twice, before settling and pressing forward insistently. He found himself gasping softly when the silveret tilted his face, tongue gliding across the junction of his lips. What few apprehensions he had left about this situation crumbled when he heard the other man sigh,tilting his head further and_ oh__**GOD-**_

Harry whimpered, his right hand scrabbling for a hold before finally stilling on his shoulder. He was a little hesitant about applying too much pressure, the shoulder was still_ wounded_ for God's sake, but the twining of that moist muscle in his mouth was doing strange things to his sense of right and wrong, and_ fuck all_ if the guy couldn't kiss like a dream…

Strong, calloused fingers closed around his hip, and before he could actually protest, he found himself being tugged forward. Tumbling forward when he was already in a stranglehold ensured that there was no where else to go except onto the chair. Which was, sadly, occupied…

He felt those thin lips curl into a smirk against his own, and frowned. Honestly, it was like the man got off on bugging him all the time. He pulled away from the kiss, and opened his eyes to find himself separated by the barest fraction of an inch from the silveret, his legs already having come to rest in a position such that he was straddling him. The pale eyed man was looking more than a little pleased with himself, lips spread in a self-satisfied smirk, and it was all Harry could do to not whack him over the head.

"Fucking smartass," he grumbled, making the man snicker.

"What? Do you hear me saying anything?"

Harry twitched, and he purposely tightened his hold on the man's shoulder. Bloody well deserved anypain he go-**oh**. The brunet's eyebrows rose for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, watching the swift play of emotions on the guy's face inquisitively. That was an interesting reaction. The beginnings of a grin tugged at the corners of his lips, settling himself comfortably to watch as he increased what little pressure he was applying on the already wounded shoulder. He was rewarded with the widening of light blue-grey eyes, the man's lips parting in a silent gasp. Harry snorted.

"Masochist." He said amusedly, dragging his nails across the skin on the back of the shoulder. The silveret hissed, his hand twisting in the grip it had on Harry's hip while he tightened the hold he had on his throat in warning. Casually ignoring said warning, Harry leant across the short distance separating them till their foreheads were touching.

"What, and here I thought you were all for troubling me for the rest of the night. Don't tell me youactually want me to_ stop?" _he purred sarcastically, not allowing the man to look away as he brutally dug his fingers into the flesh that he had so insistently been trying to heal before. He didn't need to look to know that his fingers were already covered in fresh, warm blood. Those pale, thin lips were parted wide and the man was breathing harshly, though his sharp gaze didn't waver an inch. Harry tried his best to ignore the thrills of sadistic pleasure that were shooting down his spine with every tremble his touch was evoking.

"Whoever said anything about_ stopping, _bitch?" he managed to get out between the gasps, making Harry smirk.

"Me, if I'm not mistaken." He drawled while pulling his hand away, instead closing it around the man's right wrist and, in one quick jerk, finally managed to detach it from his neck. Figuring that this meant he was free to leave, he smoothly pulled himself away from the still trembling man andstood up. He turned around, ready to get into bed and_ finally _get some sleep, when he was roughly shoved to the ground. Thinking quickly, he managed to spin himself over before actually making contact, and was in the process of pushing himself up when he was slammed back down. His eyes widened in a mix of shock and fury, and he glared up into the pale face that was looming directly above his.

"Oi, get the fuck_ off _of me! Just who the bloody hell do you think you are?!!" he demanded, lifting his arms to shove the guy off, but the silveret simply snorted, grabbing the arms and pulling them over his shoulders so that they were locked over his neck.

"I should be asking you that. You don't lead a guy on then get right off like that." He said easily, staring down at the green eyed man with a cold gaze. Harry couldn't help the derisive snort that escaped him.

"Leading you on? In your dreams, arsehole." He said defensively.

The other man smiled archly. Harry stiffened, but continued to glare at him defiantly.

"You'll sing a different tune sooner than later, I can assure you of that." The silveret offered, making Harry sneer up at him in disgust.

"Like hell I will. The only way you'll actually get to do anything tonight is if you force yourself on me." He shot back. To his slight surprise, that actually made the swordsman stiffen for a moment, before a thoroughly revolted expression crept across his face.

"I might be a lot of things, but a rapist is_ definitely_ not one of them, Brit." He said warningly. Harry rolled his eyes, and pointedly tugged at the arms that the guy still held captive around his neck.

"Yeah? I can see that oh-so-clearly."

The silveret twitched, before mumbling a curse.

"I really don't get why you're actually fighting this so much. Are you married or something?"

Harry blinked at that, and frowned in bemusement.

"Do I have to be married to say no to sleeping with a complete stranger?"

"Where I come from? Yes."

"Oh,_**come on**_**.** No place functions like that." Harry snapped, starting to feel restless. He couldn't evenhatethe guy for acting so weird. It was obvious that any effect the alcohol had had on them was long gone, they were both completely in their senses. And, to be honest, if the guy had actually been interested in forcing himself on him, he would have tried to do so a lot earlier, rather than this crazy game of trying to make him reciprocate.

"If you're not married, there's no real reason you have to be so hesitant about this. Live a little, Brit."

Harry's jaw dropped in disbelief, and no little shock. Live a little? **Live a little?!!**

"Y-you're insane. You're fucking insane." He spluttered, making the other man snort.

"Yeah? Well, you must be too, since you actually managed to put up with me for so long."

"_I beg your pardon?!!" _he spat, but didn't really get a solid answer, as the man rolled his eyes and leant forward again, roughly capturing his lips with his own. Harry couldn't help the choked gasp that escaped him, feeling the man settle comfortably over him. The new angle was playing havoc on his senses, and it was all he could do to not give in again. The other man growled irately, and all but shoved his chin upward, fingers tightening harshly over his jaw. Harry's eyes clenched shut, groaning as the silveret's tongue snaked its way into his mouth again, forcefully sliding over the ridges in the roof of his mouth and his teeth before twining with his own, coaxing him to take part.

'T-that, I, I… Shit, why was I fighting this again?' he thought faintly, shifting the hold his arms had over the other man's shoulders so that he could twist the fingers of one hand through those soft, quicksilver strands. The other unconsciously shifted back to the man's left shoulder, and he purposefully dug his nails into the already blood-soaked bandages that were covering it. The silveret moaned loudly, and Harry willing pressed his fingers down as hard as he could. Somewhere in hislust soaked brain, he knew that he really shouldn't be doing this. Not making out with some randomstranger,_ definitely _not ravaging a fresh gunshot wound, but_ damn _if this guy wasn't good at making him forget all the things he wasn't supposed to be doing.

"Sh-shit, you little_ bitch_,"he hissed out, pulling back enough to close his teeth around Harry's lower lip and tugging at it roughly. The brunet quivered, choking out a groaning gasp and pulling the guy closer.

'I-I really shouldn't be doing this. I really_, really__**, really**_shouldn't be doing this. I _– Oh, Gods above…'_

The silveret twisted away from Harry's lips, instead moving towards his neck and closing his mouth over the skin at the junction of his jaw and throat, fingers already slipping towards the first button of his shirt. As his teeth and tongue began to work in white-hot harmony, Harry started mumbling curses and moans with every breath. His fingernails dug into the man's scalp, and the teeth fastened in a particularly harsh bite, warning him to be gentler. Laughter spilt from the brunet's lips, and he dug both nails and fingers into the man's scalp and wound, just to see what reaction it would get. The silveret actually yelped, abruptly pulling away to stare down into Harry's face. He offered the man a particularly playful smirk, making him groan aloud.

"Fuck. You little bitch. And you call_ me_ a masochist," he said amusedly, lips parting in a feral grin. Harry laughed aloud, reaching up to pull him back down.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh,_ sure _you don't," the other ground out, swiftly wrenching the button open. His fingers shifted to the next button of the shirt, but it was as though he had lost any patience he might have had, pausing only for a moment before they moved back up towards the collar. The only real warning Harry had was the shift of the grin to a sly smirk, before the man all but ripped the shirt open. Harry squawked in indignation.

"Hey, what gives?!! I happened to like this shirt!"

"So? Go buy a new one. Especially since you look like you can afford it," the silveret said mockingly. Harry had only a moment to think that the guy actually remembered what he'd said earlier, before the thought was swept away in the torrent of heat that flooded through him when the man's mouthclosed over the hollow of histhroat and_**sucked-**_

"F-fuck!" He groaned, arching upwards. He could feel the other man's breathless laughter drum against his pulse as he writhed helplessly, groaning again as a muscled thigh wedged itself between his legs.

"G-gods, get to the point already, you a-**ah!**" Harry banged his head against the carpet as the man closed his teeth around his pulse point, worrying at it until Harry was almost afraid that it woulddraw blood.

"Shit, what are you, a fucking shark?" he asked faintly. The man paused for a moment, pale eyes shooting up to stare at him in surprise, before harsh laughter ripped itself from his throat.

"Something like that," he offered amusedly, his grin all teeth. Harry frowned in confusion, unable to shake the feeling that he'd just said something very stupid. Then, that thought was lost as well as the self professed shark slid lower, using teeth and tongue to mark a wet path down the plane of Harry's chest. His fingers trailed tongues of flame over the ridges of muscles covering his ribs, angle shifting imperceptibly till nails were slipping fluidly over the wizard's skin, making him shiver, caught between the odd urge to laugh and moan at the same time. He turned his gaze downwards, stilling to watch attentively when he caught sight of a silver haired head poised over his right nipple. The other's eyes tilted towards his, silent laughter glowing in them as he moved closer, flicking his tongue out to lightly drag it over the dark nub. Harry's breath hitched, a soft, involuntary tremble overtaking his limbs but unwilling to let his eyes slide shut as the silveret allowed his lips to close over his skin, tongue rolling till the nub was rock hard before tugging at it gently with his teeth. He abruptly shifted his attention to the other nipple, engulfing it so suddenly that Harry cried out, fingers reflexively clenching against the man's shoulder. A harsh shudder rippled through his body, nails digging into Harry's hip, and he stopped for a moment, though Harry continued to tremble, feeling hot, moist air blow over the oversensitised skin of his chest. His eyes stared unseeingly up at the ceiling, wondering when the night had become so crazy. Feeling the silveret shift slightly, he looked back down, and was met by the sight of pale eyes staring close to directly into his.

"I'm not going to stop," the man said carefully, obviously watching for some kind of reaction. Harry snorted mentally. He could keep watching. He was done shaking his head. And honestly, after going this far, was there any real reason he shouldn't just go ahead and go the whole way?

_(His conscience seemed to be screaming, trying to get him to remember a warm, golden smile and rich, strawberry scented red hair, but no, not yet, not just yet…)_

"I won't stop you." Harry said in reply, staring back with a raised eyebrow as he slid his hand away from the man's shoulder, unhurriedly running his nails down the ridges of his spine. A slow smirk quirked at the corners of the man's lips, as he reached up to cup Harry's chin, tilting it back so he had easier access to languidly run his tongue over the brunet's lips. Harry sighed inaudibly, leaning into the touch as he allowed his tongue to slip out and coil around the other's in the warm air. Then, shifting his hold on the other's hair such that his palm and fingers cupped the base of his head, he pressed him closer, opening his mouth to give the man permission to slide his tongue in. A lazysmirk graced his lips for all of a moment before he accepted the freely given invitation, deliberately ghosting his tongue over Harry's teeth while lightly dipping the edges of his fingers below the waistline of his trousers.

The brunet pulled away with a loud gasp, pressing his face into the other's neck and trying to ignorehis surprised laughter.

"F-fuck, just how sensitive _are _you, anyway?" he managed to get out between sniggers. Harry nipped at his shoulder in warning, making the man choke for a moment, before snorting in renewed mirth. He ran the fingers of his right hand lightly down Harry's waist, down, up, and then down again, sliding lower to hook below a knee and pulling it upwards. Harry sighed into his neck, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh and making the other groan out loud. Forgoing anything else, the man closed both hands over Harry's hips, shifting his position until he was partially straddling the dark haired man. Harry bit down hard on the skin in his mouth to hide a gasp, arching upwards into the touch. The other man mumbled an almost inaudible curse about 'dumb, sensitive, impatient Brits', making Harry snicker quietly, though his laughter soon trailed away into a choked groan as the silveret ground down on him. Hands all but clinging to the man's skin, he bit down harshly, anything to stop the torrent of moans that threatened to escape him. The warm, low groan right by his ear as the silveret moved again was _not _helping.

"Think we'll regret this tomorrow?" Harry asked suddenly, once he managed to pull his face away from the taller man's neck. He got an unamused snort in response.

"That's if we actually remember any of this at all," was his only answer, before the man pointedly tilted his face upwards, signifying the end to anymore conversation. Unable to stop the smirk that slid across his lips, he willingly accepted the forceful press of lips against his own, spreading his other leg to make himself a little more comfortable on the ground. He was gifted with an appreciative nip on the lips, the silveret skimming a thumb first over his cheekbone and continuing on to trace down his jaw-line before tilting his head further back to get a better angle. As far as the green-eyed saviour of Magical Britain was concerned, any coherent thought after that seemed overrated.

*

The silence that remained in the room was almost suffocating, and I was left choking in the throes of my epiphany. God, did I actually just _give in_ to him? Well, since I was still here the next morning after having had sex with the guy not once but _multiple times_ through the night, _obviously_. Gritting my teeth, I put a hand out to steady myself against the windowpane, while I lifted the other to slowly massage my temple. How the hell did I manage to get myself into these situations, anyway? Was it too much to hope that the entire thing had been some kind of odd, warped dream?

The sound of running water from within the bathroom was like a sadistic counterpoint to my thoughts. Looks like Superbi was very much a corporeal entity. Note the gushing joy that fills my heart. Grimacing uncomfortably, I wearily pushed myself away from the window, dropping the sheet and taking a glance around the room. Critically eying the clothes that had been strewn all over the place, I was quite certain that I had enough time to get dressed and leave before the Italian was done with his shower, but that would have been as good as running away, wouldn't it? Not to mention that I had no interest in running away from my own ministry's safe house without even bothering to brush my teeth. Maybe if I timed it right I wouldn't need to see the guy in person. From what I remembered of the night before, it wasn't exactly advisable for me to talk to him again. Undoubtedly he would manage to convince me to do something else that went against my moral code. Not that I seemed to have protested overmuch to our activities last night. God _damn_ it…

Heading over to the small closet set into one of the walls, I rummaged through it, managing to track down a napkin for myself. That angle covered, I cautiously headed towards the bathroom itself, knocking twice on the door before turning the knob and letting myself in. Superbi was safely cloistered within the section separated for showers, the translucent glass well and truly fogged over. All I could make out was a vague outline through the moisture on the glass door. I don't think I could _ever_ have been more thankful that the new Minister had been willing to take suggestions from muggleborns while getting new safe houses built for the ministry. An old fashioned tub, or even something similar to the showers in the Prefects' bathrooms back in Hogwarts would have been mortifying in this situation.

Taking a deep breath, I did my best to ignore the fact that the figure within the cubicle had paused for a moment. Rolling my eyes at my own timidity, I dropped the napkin to the side of the sink before reaching up to the medical cabinet and grabbing one of the brushes inside, ensuring that I was taking the unused one. Merlin bless the self-updating cabinets. No doubt two brushes and the necessary medical 'equipment' we required had appeared in the cabinet right after we had entered the room the last night. Raising myself onto my toes, I quested round for the toothpaste. Successfully finding it, I eased a blob of the stuff onto my brush and resealed the tube, all the while ignoring the pale blue eyes that were unabashedly staring at me through the glass.

While brushing, I tried to go over whatever had happened the last night. Let alone the fact that I had slept with the guy, I was more than a little curious as to where he had come from. Had it just been a coincidence that he had been at the same bar I had dropped down in? Not to mention that the men after me had been after him as well. The whole situation seemed far too suspicious. Then again, even if he had been someone out to get me, it was unlikely that he would have chosen to have sex with me instead of trying to off me last night when I was still inebriated and hurt from the ambush we'd faced. Not to mention the tiny little detail that he had also saved my life at the risk of his own. Shaking my head bemusedly while rinsing at the same time, I found that I was _still_ unable to place the man. I had no real answer, nor understanding as to _why_ I had ended up doing what I had.

_Live a little, Brit._

Taking a careful glance at the glass cubicle while pressing the napkin to my face, I sighed inwardly. Superbi had gone back to continuing with his shower, he wasn't even looking out at me anymore. As the napkin slipped from my fingers to drop against the floor, I had only a bit of doubt as to where exactly I was taking this. At least last night I'd had the excuse that I'd been drunk, even if most of the drunkenness had worn off by the time we had actually gotten around to _doing _something, but now, I didn't even have that. All the same, I found my feet silently stepping towards the cubicle. Superbi had gone still on the other side of the glass, though he made no motion to slide the door open. That was all up to me, if I wanted to. I was quite certain he wouldn't protest in any way if I did. Cursing myself inwardly, I found my fingers twisting over the plastic handle of the door, pausing only for a few seconds before they tightened and I slid it open in one go.

The warm, moist air from the shower curled around me in pale white tendrils, the steam kissing my flesh almost as intimate as a living entity, and I had only taken a step into the dark, copper stone floored cubicle before I found myself being spun around. My back collided harshly against the wall, the pale cream tiles biting into my back as a pair of lips crushed insistently into mine. My eyes were still half lidded, and I stared up into the other man's eyes amusedly before letting them slide shut. I reached an arm up to slip my fingers through the silver-white hair that had no doubt gone dark grey in the running water, groaning lowly as Superbi pressed closer, his hands trapping me against the wall. Trying to pull away from the tongue that was languidly brushing against, between, my lips, I mumbled something about the door, making him smirk against my skin.

"It can wait." He murmured pointedly, before lowering his head to close his lips around the junction of my jaw and neck. I moaned softly, tugging blindly at his hair and making him growl, all the while wondering why I was doing this again. As the man's obviously experienced tongue and teeth worked against my throat, I gasped, figuring that I might as well ride with it. It wasn't like I had any further to fall, I'd already gone _way_ over my limits. Feeling the silveret give a particularly enthusiastic nip to my pulse point while sliding a hand lower, I hissed in response. No doubt _riding with it_ would prove to be a more enjoyable experience than not.

*

I sat on the bed, quickly lacing up the shoes I had worn the last night. Superbi was already done with most of what he needed to get on again, frowning at the state of the buttons on his shirt while eying himself in the bathroom mirror. I could still see him from the angle I was seated in, the door of the bathroom having been left wide open. Done with the laces on both feet, I rolled my eyes and straightened.

"You know, you have no room to be complaining. Have you _seen _what you did to my shirt last night?" I asked accusingly. He shot me a look over his shoulder, an unrepentant grin curving across his lips.

"That was done with good intentions."

"You mean, it was done with every intention of fucking me into the floor," I shot back irately. He snorted, turning back to the mirror.

"Details, details. Grab another shirt from that magical closet of yours, there's bound to be something interesting left behind."

I stiffened for a second, wondering when the hell I'd let slip that I was magical in any way or form, before realising that he was being sarcastic. Sighing inwardly in relief, I pushed myself off of the bed and headed towards the closet, hoping that one of the charms on it was a shirt-conjuring charm or something. If not, at least something that would get me a decent, _not-ripped-apart_ shirt that I could use until I got back home. Catching sight of a fresh, black dress shirt, I smiled.

"Well, well, well. Guess I was right about the shirt."

I started in shock when the silveret's arms smoothly slid round my waist, his head dropping down to settle on my shoulder. Snorting mirthfully, I leant back against him, seeing as I didn't have any other choice.

"Don't get all smug about it, mate. You don't want to give yourself a swollen head." I chanced a look at him, grinning when I saw those pale blue eyes roll in amusement.

"What do you do, anyway?" He asked suddenly. I stiffened, before forcing myself to relax. I had a fake answer ready on the tip on my tongue when, for some incomprehensible reason, I found myself answering truthfully.

"I'm a wizard."

_That_ made him stop short, and I was nearly expecting him to pull away, when I found him eying me with mild bemusement. It was quickly masked by a cocky smirk, though.

"If you're a _wizard,_ then I'm part of the Italian Mafia."

I blinked up at him, before breaking down into helpless laughter. He snickered right alongside me, his arms tightening around my waist while he pressed his face into the junction of my shoulder and throat.

I still don't know what I'd been thinking when I'd gone ahead and slept with the guy, or what in the world had possessed me to stick around for the morning after, but for some reason, I think that for now, what I had while standing in his strangely comforting embrace was more than reason enough.

* * *

Hello to everyone reading this. Hopefully you enjoyed the prologue/1st chapter to Serendipity. To start out, this damned plotline has been bouncing around in my head for quite a while, but I actually got around to penning it down only recently.

I have at least two more chapters ready to be posted, which I will be doing based on the kind of response this chapter generates. In other words, **reviews will be greatly appreciated**. Also, please tell me if you think I should keep the story in the mainstream HP section, the mainstream KHR section or the crossovers section.

In advance, this story is **NOT** going to bash Ginny in any way or form. I happen to like her as a character, just, not with Harry. I find the pairing far too clichéd for comfort.

Till next time.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer **- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating - **PG-13.

**WARNINGS **- Slash, guys kissing, infidelity, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack (haha...) - **Various songs by Depeche Mode, Gackt, 10 years and similar artists. The ones that stand out are:

David Arkenstone – Call of the Sea (beginning of the chapter…)

10 years – Wasteland, Actions and Motives

Depeche Mode – Stripped

Gackt – Mind Forest, Lust for Blood, Tsuki no Uta

* * *

**Serendipity**

**Chapter 2**

The sun was shining brightly, the sky a dazzling, cornflower blue. Small, white clouds dotted the sky, a steady breeze laden with the scent of grapes blowing softly. The courtyard was large, majestic, and awe-inspiring. It was also close to bursting with the number of people filled within it.

Harry Potter sighed, half-tempted to find some way to sneak out of the place. He never did like these large functions, where people moved around with fake smiles, socialising with others and all the while having their own hidden agendas. He leant back against the tree behind him, a strained smile of his own pulling at his lips, while he tried his best to look sociable.

"Anything wrong, dear boy?"

The green-eyed wizard started, eyes widening as he whipped his head round to stare at the smiling, older man that had managed to sneak up on him. Nearly groaning in exasperation, he forced himself to relax.

"Nothing at all, Ninth. Though, I have to say that you managed to remind me of my old Headmaster just then." He offered, making the man's eyebrows rise in amusement and curiosity.

"Your old Headmaster, you say? Albus Dumbledore, if I'm not mistaken?" he asked, eyes twinkling in a manner quite similar to the headmaster in question. Harry couldn't help but smile.

"The one and only, Ninth." He responded, giving a small nod of respect. Watching this, the man frowned in mock-exasperation.

"Come now, young man. How many times must I ask you to address me as Timoteo? I believe the amount of help you have given me in the past few years gives you the right to address me as such."

Harry laughed nervously, raising a hand to rub the back of his head. What was he supposed to say, 'Sorry, Timoteo, it's just that I never knew you were the head of one of the most powerful mafia families in Italy before'? Though he didn't reply, the light smirk that the Vongola head didn't try to hide proved that his silence was answer enough. The younger man did his best not to pout, turning his attention back to the people moving within the courtyard.

"Why don't you go out and meet some people? I assure you, despite the stories surrounding us, everyone here is quite friendly."

"I'll be sure to do so, Ni- ah, Timoteo." Harry corrected himself quickly when he caught sight of the Vongola's narrow-eyed stare. Nodding in satisfaction, the older man wandered off, no doubt planning on doing some socialising of his own. Staring after him, Harry sighed again, and shook his head in incredulity. It was one thing to take up an 'outside job' as a favour for a friend, it was quite another to find out that he was strengthening the security and wards of the Vongola Family headquarters. He shivered, and forcefully tried to drag his mind back to the people surrounding him. He only prayed that Kingsley never found out what he was doing. He'd already told Ron, and the redhead had NOT been amused, but if his superior ever found out, he'd be in deep shit. Even if the work that he did on a day to day basis as part of his job wasn't all that savoury, the ministry didn't look kindly on employees that went around helping criminal organisations on their own. Which was exactly what he was going to be doing. He flinched unconsciously, attracting more than one curious glance, though most were quick to return to whatever it was they were doing previously. Then again, if he did this, Timoteo would _owe_ him. Having the gratitude of the head of the illustrious Vongola family was bound to be useful at some point.

And, anyway, it wasn't like he could say no. Leaving aside the fact that people were usually expected to listen to mob bosses if they wanted to keep their heads on their necks, the man was just too nice and grandfatherly to deny. And reminded him far too much of Dumbledore for comfort. Harry sagged against the tree, staring aimlessly up at the sky. Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Dumbledore. Half the crazy things he did for the Vongola Head stemmed from the fact that the man was so much like his old mentor, though he never would admit to having that thought aloud.

"Harry?" the voice wasn't one that he recognised immediately, though the air of surprise had a ring of familiarity to it.

Harry blinked, and turned his face to lock gazes with the wide, golden brown eyes staring at him. He blinked in confusion, before his own eyes widened in shock.

"_Dino?!!"_ he yelped incredulously, immediately pulling away from the tree. The handsome blond gave a wide grin, taking in the disbelief colouring the dark haired man's voice.

"What in the world are you doing here?" Harry demanded, once he managed to calm himself down. The other man raised an eyebrow amusedly.

"I should be asking you that. The Ninth was kind enough to invite me along with certain members of my family, but how did _you_ manage to turn up here?"

Harry blinked at that, and when the words finally registered, his jaw all but dropped. The golden eyed man burst out laughing, while Harry could only gawk in disbelief.

"Ah, I see you finally managed to find someone to talk to. Dino, this is Harry Potter, an old friend of mine." Timoteo had managed to sneak up on him again, though the green eyed saviour was too shocked to actually notice. Dino Cavallone snorted in amusement.

"You needn't bother yourself with introductions, Timoteo. We've met before." He commented, smirking slightly at the way the brunet was looking from him to the Vongola head and back. Timoteo's eyebrows rose, eying the two suspiciously, before nodding as well.

"At any rate, I must at least _try_ to be a good host, must I not? Though I do expect you to tell me the story of how you managed to meet each other at some point during your stay, Harry," he said pointedly. The green eyed man finally seemed to come back to himself, and he quickly nodded in acquiescence, giving a wan smile.

"I'll be sure to do that, Ni- ah, Timoteo." He corrected himself hastily yet again, while Timoteo frowned.

"I'll leave you with Dino for a while longer, Harry. By the time I see you next, I hope I won't have to remind you again." He sighed, before leaving. Harry groaned lowly, shutting his eyes and rubbing his neck uncomfortably, while Dino watched him with raised eyebrows.

"You know the old man?" he asked curiously. Harry's eyes shot open, and he scowled irately at the ill-disguised laughter in the other man's eyes.

"Yes, I do, but what I don't understand is how _you_ do. You're a part of the mafia?"

"Why, I do believe I am." He said drolly, joining Harry in leaning against the tree. Harry frowned in bemusement, though there was no little suspicion glimmering in his eyes.

"That doesn't explain how you're on first name terms with him. I've done a couple favours for him, which is why he's so insistent that I call him Timoteo, but… don't tell me you're a high ranking member of the Vongola or something, mate…" he muttered finally. The blond rolled his eyes, and elbowed him.

"Nope, not a member of Vongola. We never _did_ get enough time to actually talk the last time, did we?" he mused. Harry rolled his eyes as well, and turned so that his shoulder was pressed against the tree, allowing him to eye the other man comfortably.

"Well, it isn't exactly easy to go around trading idle chatter when we're trying to get away from an entire women's locker room. I'm sure you agree." He deadpanned. Though he didn't get a reply, the man's shoulders shook in silent laughter, making him smirk.

"So. Who _are_ you, anyway?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. The blond shot him an impish smirk.

"Have you heard of Dino Cavallone?"

"Of course I have, who _hasn't_ heard of Bucking Horse Di- You've got to be kidding me."

The smirk smoothly edged into a toothy grin, making Harry groan out loud.

"You aren't. Hell, man! You're the fucking _Head_ of a mafia family?"

His only answer was resounding laughter, making him pout and sag against the tree yet again. How the hell did these things always manage to happen to him?

They continued to stand there for sometime, Harry sulking while the Cavallone head continued to shake with laughter. Once the man had finally calmed down, he surveyed the dark haired man standing beside him with a wide smile.

"So, what are you doing here? I'm quite certain you're not a part of the mafia; we would have run into each other sooner than later otherwise. Our chance meeting happened a long time ago, after all."

"You're right about that. I'm not a part of the mafia. Just like Timoteo said, I'm an old friend of his. I'm here to help him out with something."

"Oh? And what might that be?"

"Just a little bit of this and that," Harry answered vaguely. The Cavallone head rolled his eyes.

"Just so you know, the Cavallone are allies of Vongola. Indebted to them, actually. There's no chance that I'll take advantage of anything you tell me."

"All the same. Not risking my neck telling you any sensitive information. I'm sure you understand," Harry said easily, turning his gaze back on the crowd. Honestly, he didn't think he'd ever seen such a riot of colours before. Though most of the people present were wearing proprietary black suits, the wide range of hairstyles and colours to go along with the suits were a sight to see. Since the start of the party, he'd seen everything from a normal, sober black or dirty blond to blood reds, greens, midnight blues and sil-

Harry stiffened in shock, eyes widening as they caught sight of the slim, silver haired male edging through the crowd, nursing a glass of scotch. Someone else called out to him, and the man paused, turning just about enough to give Harry a partial view of his face. The same high cheekbones and sharp jaw line as before, hair styled in a riot of spikes flowing backwards and his breath caught in his throat when a sharp, pale blue eye seemed to lock onto him. The thin eyebrows rose slightly, and Harry could see the clear disbelief in his eyes even though the man was quite far off.

"Harry?"

Harry blinked, and just like that, the man was gone. He continued to stare at the spot where he had last seen him, and it was only after a few nudges and grumbles that he actually turned back to the golden haired man beside him.

Dino was watching him with a bemused expression painted across his face. Harry managed to force a smile before his attention shifted back towards the figure he had seen. Or, at least, he _thought _he'd seen? It was entirely possible that he'd been seeing things, right? Right?

"Harry. What the hell happened. You look like you've seen a ghost." Dino deadpanned. The dark haired man gave a short laugh and pulled away from the tree.

"Something like that. Look, I need to go, but I'd love to catch up with you if you're free, mate. I mean, what with you being a family head…"

Dino rolled his eyes, and rattled away his mobile number. Finally managing a marginally honest smile, Harry quickly input the number into his phone. Waving away the questioning look on the other man's face, he then turned around to 'mingle' with the masses, hoping that he'd be able to catch the man that had been speaking with the silver haired apparition. Then again, it wasn't right calling a person an apparition. What if it had actually been him…?

Harry stopped short, staring at the recently shorn grass below his feet, silent as the rest of the party continued to swirl around him. There was the steady murmur of voices, a soft burst of laughter here, a low growl of anger somewhere else. No one he knew except for Timoteo, Dino, and possibly the man he _thought _he had seen. Then again…

Then again…

'I shouldn't be doing this. Even if it _is_ him… It was just a one off thing. I haven't seen him since that night in China. He probably doesn't even _remember_ me…'

Except that the man's eyes had clearly had an inkling of recognition in them. Even with the distance that had been between them, the man had clearly found _something _about the way he looked familiar. Either that, or he'd been looking at Dino instead.

'Stop making excuses. It's got to be simpler than this. Either you go and look for him, whether it was an apparition or not, or just forget about the whole thing. Which is what you're supposed to be doing. You're _engaged._ It's one thing if you sleep with someone when you're drunk, it's a lot more serious if you actively seek that person out just because you _thought_ you'd seen them at a party.'

Harry pointedly ignored the loophole in his conscience's logic. That he'd _already_ actively pursued the man when he'd been stone cold sober. Of course, it could be reasoned away by the fact that it had been right after he'd regained his memories of the night before, but…

Catching sight of the brunet that the man had been speaking to before their eyes met, Harry paused for a moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing, however _right_ you could be in this situation, before mumbling a rather exasperated 'fuck it' and marching forward.

"Ah, excuse me- oh, um… _Scusa-"_

"Yes?" the man answered with a raised eyebrow. Harry groaned inwardly, hoping he hadn't insulted the man, before continuing.

"Ah, sorry, this might sound a bit strange, but… were you speaking with a silver haired man just now?"

The man's other eyebrow rose to join the first.

"Well, that… who are you, exactly?"

Harry blinked at that, and unconsciously straightened. Any nervousness that had been left over from his moment of internal conflict seemed to melt away, and he gave a tired smile.

"Harry Potter. A guest of the Ninth."

The man's eyes widened slightly, before he gave a nod of respect.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter. And, to answer your question, yes, I _was_ speaking with a silver haired man just now."

Harry sighed, his emotions warring between relief and unease. So, he _hadn't_ been seeing things. Now, all that was left to be seen was what he was going to do with that information. Well, since he'd actually gone out and asked after him, he might as well go all the way and ask where he was, right?

Trying his best not to feel guilty, he uncomfortably ran a handthrough his hair.

"If it isn't too much trouble -"

"He's gone down that route; you should be able to find him by the gallery overlooking this place, to the back."

The dark haired man was more than a little surprised at the abrupt answer, but gave a slow nod in thanks. The brunet nodded in reply, looking borderline curious, but didn't say anything else. He turned and went on his way. Left staring after the man, Harry sighed in bemusement, running a hand through his hair. Well, he'd gotten his answer. Might as well follow it through.

*

'This is ridiculous. I shouldn't be doing this. I _shouldn't be doing thi-'_ Harry's thoughts stuttered to a halt as he paused at the corner of the corridor, staring in shock at the figure that was standing in the gallery ahead. With most of the monitions in his head draining away at the sight of the man before him, he walked slowly towards the suit clad form leaning against one of the many arches that were lining the gallery overlooking the courtyard, unable to believe that he hadn't been seeing things. He'd thought that the brief image of pale silver-white hair in the crowd had been nothing but a trick of the eye, but now…

"Guess you hadn't been joking back then. About being a wizard, I mean."

Harry's heart all but leapt up to his throat. The voice was just the same, just as low and drawling as it had been the last time he had seen him, disappearing into one of the many dark streets of Taiwan. Biting his lip, he stepped closer.

"Squalo?" he asked carefully. The man turned his head, shooting a look over his shoulder, and suddenly, the situation couldn't even come close to some kind of dream or illusion. There was no way he could have dreamt up the surprise, amusement and disbelief warring with each other in equal measure within the other man's eyes. He couldn't help but smile, striding forward to hoist himself onto the low wall connecting the many arches. The silveret beside him rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the courtyard. Harry comfortably joined him, the languid exercise of trying to place the many people he had seen seeming more interesting now that he was standing beside someone he actually knew. Granted, he had known Dino as well, but that connection was more impersonal than whatever he had with the man beside him.

Well, technically, he knew the Cavallone head a bit better than the swordsman beside him, but all the same. For some strange reason, he felt more comfortable around the silver haired man.

"Saw you talking to Cavallone." The statement was sudden, and Harry found himself blinking in bemusement.

"Oh, Dino? I met him on a previous job. We'd been forced to work together when the situation went bad." He explained, trying not to grin when he caught sight of a raised eyebrow, though the man didn't turn back to him.

"Now why does that sound familiar?" he commented. Harry snorted.

"True. A major difference would be that I ended up sleeping with you. The only thing that happened between Dino and me was the creation of a feeling of relief and companionship, since we managed to escape with our lives and family jewels intact."

Superbi started, and turned to stare at him. Harry burst out laughing, pressing a hand against the stone below him to steady himself.

"Do I want to know?" he asked bemusedly. Harry shook his head rapidly, still laughing.

"I think it would be better for your sanity if you didn't," he quipped, making the other man snort and look back at the courtyard. Harry tilted his head in curiosity, wondering what in the world was captivating the man enough to make him all-out _stare_ with such intensity_._ Shifting his own gaze outwards, he tried to follow the path of his sight, and his eyes were seemingly drawn towards a tall, tanned broad-shouldered man standing silently under a tree, much like he had been doing before. Even with the great distance separating them, Harry could clearly see that the man's dark brows were lowered in an irritable scowl, as he raised the glass in his hand to knock down its contents.

"Well, he looks good, I'll give you that," Harry offered idly, leaning against the arch behind him and smirking amusedly when his companion all but jumped.

"Huh, wha-?! VOI! THAT'S NOT WHY I WAS, ah…" he trailed away, beginning to look a little embarrassed, while Harry continued to smirk. Squalo glared at him, before shifting round to look out at the courtyard again. Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"That's Xanxus. He's the Ninth's son." He offered shortly, his glare not diminishing in the least. Harry blinked, before his eyes widened.

"The guy that's touted to be the next head of the Vongola?" he asked in interest, pulling forward again. Squalo nodded seriously, crossing his arms on top of the wall and leaning forward.

"That's not why I'm, that's not-shit…" he muttered irately, making Harry snort.

"That's not why you were staring at him?" he offered helpfully. The silveret shot him a dirty glance.

"I wasn't staring at him, _period_, Potter." He ground out. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Sure."

"That's the man that I am going to follow for the rest of my life." He stated abruptly, pointedly ignoring the slack jawed expression that had sprung onto Harry's face with his declaration.

Quickly composing himself, Harry couldn't help but turn his attention back to the possible Vongola heir standing in the courtyard, wondering what special trait he had that could make _Squalo_, of all people, so loyal to him. The one time that Harry had met the silver-haired swordsman, he had been put under the impression that Squalo wasn't the kind to bow to anyone. He might serve the man as a member of Vongola, but his declaration didn't seem to be implying anything nearly as low-key.

"You've got a reason for it?" he asked agreeably, watching the other man from the corner of his eye. Superbi nodded silently.

"He's got the ambition to become great. His fury is something I can place my trust in."

Harry blinked at that.

"…Fury?" he repeated, part bemused, part sceptical, and quickly put up his hands to try and ward off any attacks from the twitching silveret.

"You would understand if you ever saw him in a fight." He said finally, looking more than a little sullen. Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm not saying anything contrary, Superbi. I don't exactly understand why you would follow someone for _fury,_ of all things, but _power_, on the other hand…" He muttered. He knew without looking that Squalo was watching him with raised eyebrows.

"There is no good or evil. Only power, and those too weak to seek it." Harry said after a few seconds of silence, turning his gaze towards the silveret standing beside him. Squalo blinked, and snorted.

"That's an interesting concept. You come up with it, bitch?"

Harry twitched, but decided to ignore the 'affectionate' insult. It wasn't as though the swordsman would _listen _to him if he asked him to stop.

"No. Someone told me that when I was eleven."

"Oh? And what happened to that someone?"

"Dead. I killed him when I was seventeen."

There was a derisive snort of laughter from beside him, and Harry couldn't help but give a lazy smirk in return. If he'd said something like that back home, everyone but Ron and Hermione would have had aneurisms. It was… comforting to stand beside someone that could understand the dark humour in his statement, ironic though it was.

"That's good. That's good. Something I would have done. Why'd you kill him?" asked Squalo, still sniggering.

"Because I had to. There was nobody else who could." The green eyed man deadpanned, looking back towards the Vongola heir. Squalo choked at that, staring at him incredulously. When Harry continued to remain silent, he sighed, and looked back towards his muse as well. Though, it was likely that both Squalo and the aforementioned muse would take pains to kill him, _slowly_, if he ever said that out loud. Harry chuckled at the thought. Both remained quiet, enjoying the companionable silence for a few moments before Harry regrettably broke it.

"You were serious about it, weren't you? Following Xanxus?" he said quietly. Squalo didn't bother to give any affirmation, his silence was answer enough. It was at this point that, to the surprise of both, the dark haired man standing in the courtyard suddenly turned towards them. Harry stiffened, his breath hitching in his throat at the barely contained lethal promise and simmering rage in those sanguine eyes. Squalo had stiffened as well, eyes widening, his fingers clenching just enough for his nails to drag lightly against the stone wall they were resting on. They stayed in the same position until the Vongola heir sneered derisively and moved away, releasing them from their paralysed states. Harry's breath left him in a soft whoosh of breath, while Squalo sagged against the wall.

"Hah… I think I get what you meant by 'fury', mate…" Harry muttered, clapping a hand over his eyes and leaning back against the arch. Squalo laughed breathlessly in reply, not really having a clear answer to that. Harry continued to lean back, trying to catch his breath, wondering at the fact that there were people with lethal potential like Xanxus still existent in the world. It was so easy, sometimes, to forget that there was a world outside of the dark wizards, dark magic and other magic related crimes or criminals that his squad dealt with on a regular basis. Their work covered other areas as well, but it had been a long time since he had come across a person who so obviously believed in his own prowess, and actually had the power to back it up. In _either _world. Squalo had made a very interesting choice.

"How long are you in town?"

Harry blinked at the sudden change in topic, and slowly pulled his hand away from his eyes.

"Huh?" he asked rather intelligently. Squalo sighed, but didn't look at him.

"How long are you in town?" he repeated exasperatedly.

"At least ten days, I should think. I need to finish the warding that Timoteo insisted I do and get back as soon as possible, but it should take at least that much time at a minimum." He answered, eying the silver-haired man quietly.

"Do you have a place to stay?" the swordsman finally asked, turning his face just about enough to see Harry from the corner of his eyes. Harry smirked.

"As a matter of fact, I do. Why, are you offering?" he asked amusedly. To his surprise, the other man actually turned to face him full-on.

"As a matter of fact, yes, I am," he answered easily, tone mildly teasing, his pale gaze trailing almost languidly over Harry's figure. The dark haired man felt his breath hitch again, though for a completely different reason.

"… I was supposed to be staying with an old friend of my fiancée's. There are enough safe houses in the area, but I don't want the ministry to find out what I'm up to…" he said, slowly straightening from his slump against the arch. Squalo continued to watch him quietly, and Harry was left in a conundrum.

'I shouldn't even be _considering_ this…' he thought uncomfortably, wondering why he was never able to make a sensible decision when it came to this man. The two stayed silent for a few moments, though the silence wasn't nearly as companionable as before. Just when it was edging towards awkwardness, the skin around the silveret's eyes and lips tightening slightly and he was beginning to turn away, Harry took a deep breath and released it.

"Fine. I'll take you up on the offer." He said tiredly, running a hand through his hair again. Squalo tilted his head to the side, watching him with a strange expression on his face, before a smirk tugged at the corners of his lips.

"You sure about that? You won't just be able to up and leave after you cancel your plans with your fiancée's friend." He said pointedly. Harry nodded with a sigh, honestly thinking he had gone around the bend, before favouring the pale eyed man with a tired scowl.

"You're far too good at convincing me to make insane decisions, without even having to say anything to convince me in the first place!" he snapped abruptly, making the man laugh. Harry was left scowling at the silveret, and barely had any reaction when they were suddenly hailed from behind.

"Harry, there you are! I was wondering where- Squalo?" the question ended on a note of surprise, and both Harry and the still-snickering man turned to see who had called out. They found themselves face to face with the Cavallone head, whose eyebrows were raised as high as they could go.

"Fucking Horse." The insult that slipped from Squalo's lips was so predictable that Harry couldn't stop the groan of exasperation that slipped from his lips. A lazy smirk quirked at Squalo's lips, while Dino rolled his eyes.

"You're not going to stop calling me that even if I tell you to, are you."

"Nope."

The blond haired man sighed, and turned his attention to Harry instead.

"You seem to have forgotten to mention that you knew Squalo here." He said bemusedly. Harry laughed nervously, remembering that he had all but brushed Dino off when he had gone searching to find out if he had actually seen Squalo or not.

"I honestly hadn't known that he was a part of Vongola. We met under strange circumstances, and didn't have any time to introduce ourselves…" he explained with a sheepish smile. Squalo snorted inelegantly.

"That's what they call a- mmph!" he glared at the emerald eyed man beside him, reaching up to tug at the hand that had clapped over his mouth. Harry's smile was all teeth.

"Ignore him, Dino. So, any particular reason you were searching for me?" he asked easily. Dino's eyebrows had risen again, and his gaze was calculating, eyes shifting to look from one to the other.

"…No, not for any reason in particular. You'd implied that you didn't know anyone except Timoteo and myself here, so I had been planning on keeping you occupied for the rest of the party, but since that isn't the case…" he ended with an amused grin spreading across his lips. Squalo growled and wrenched Harry's hand away from his face.

"Mind your own business, Cavallone." He ground out, his eyes narrowly coldly. Dino laughed gaily in response.

"Oh, don't be like that, Squalo! I keep telling you to be more sociable," hurriedly changing the topic when he noticed that the other man's left hand was clenching and unclenching slowly, almost as though it was trying to close over a hilt that was unavailable, he shifted his attention to the dark haired man watching their conversation with an amused twinkle in his eyes.

"So, Harry, will you be hanging around for much longer? Are you staying at the Vongola headquarters?" he asked, the amused smile not budging an inch from his lips. Harry was hard pressed not to grin in response.

"No, I don't think so. I need to finalise plans with regard to my accommodations for the rest of my stay here. I'll be leaving as soon as I speak to the Ninth." He said, unable to hold back a smile when Dino actually offered to let him stay at his headquarters if the accommodation wasn't comfortable enough.

"I think I'll be fine, Dino."

"I could get someone to drop you off…" the golden brown eyed man offered in turn, honestly wanting to help out the British wizard. He had looked so out of place before, standing alone under a tree until Timoteo had stepped up to talk to him. Inspite of barely having had any time to get to know each other, Dino knew for a fact that he could count the man as a friend.

"Like I said, I should be fine. This guy offered to drop me off." Harry explained, grinning and nudging the man beside him. Squalo rolled his eyes, and shoved him back. Dino could only watch in surprise, more than a little shocked to see Squalo getting along so well with someone. He settled for a small smile, relieved that the silver haired swordsman could actually interact with someone other than himself. Or, to be more specific, that there was someone other than himself who could actually tolerate the man's idiosyncrasies.

"Well then, I'll leave you to it. Harry, be sure to call at some point, we can catch some lunch or dinner some time between work." He said, leaving the gallery with a small wave over his shoulder. His smile broadened into a grin at the called out affirmative before the two men degenerated into a quiet argument over something or the other. There was another shock. Squalo, _Squalo Superbi_ was actually _keeping his voice down._

'Haha, I do believe that I've seen it all. Romario isn't going to believe this. For that matter, neither is Reborn.'

*

"Sure that friend of your fiancée's isn't going to tell on you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, hoisting his suitcase and slamming the car door shut. The slim, chestnut haired man that had answered the door had been an year younger to Ginny, and two years younger to him by default. Ignoring the two year difference, the man had been so much in awe of him that it was likely he would completely forget to tell Ginny that he wouldn't be staying with him. Well, not exactly _awe,_ per se, but still. There had been enough wary respect in the man's eyes that it was likely he wouldn't pry.

"No, I don't think he'll be saying anything. May be it was a good thing you stayed by the car."

"What, I'm your dirty little secret now?" the silveret drawled, smirking at the dark haired man over his shoulder. Harry's jaw dropped in shock, feeling his cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"What exactly are you trying to imply." he muttered, following the other man and trying to will the heat in his cheeks away at the same time.

"Oh, nothing, nothing… Yo, Mario." He called out suddenly. Harry blinked, and looked around him to see a small, mousy brown haired man shutting the door to the house at the bottom of the small apartment building. The man nodded slowly, looking a little uncomfortable. He nodded to Harry as well, and quickly strode past them, keeping his head low. Harry stared after him, before looking up at his friend questionably.

"That guy owns the place. Kind of our landlord, but not really, since he's supposed to give our rents to his uncle or something," Squalo explained with a bored air. Harry nodded understandingly, before snorting lowly. Squalo tilted his head, waiting for an explanation silently while leading the way towards the stairs.

"I'm assuming that guy knows you're a part of the Vongola?" Harry asked with a crooked grin. Squalo gave a sharp smile in reply, making his way up the stairs and not bothering with the answer. It was obvious enough.

When they reached Squalo's apartment on the third floor, Harry paused to lean against the railing of the open corridor overlooking the front of the building while Squalo struggled with the lock on his door, muttering something about needing to invest in better security. Harry smiled, staring out at their quiet, green surroundings. The apartment was well out of the main hustle and bustle of the city centre, not too far away from the Vongola headquarters, but still enough to make him wonder whether they were even in the same city anymore. While the headquarters itself wasn't exactly in the centre of the city, there was something about the place that didn't have the same relaxed atmosphere as the locality of the apartment building in which Squalo lived. Harry quickly looked over his shoulder when Squalo all but rammed the door open with an oath, and did his best not to laugh.

"…This a common problem?" he asked, hiding a grin when he was graced with a scowl.

"You'll get used to it soon enough. Unless you're willing to use that magic shit of yours to fix my damn door and lock, nothing else seems to work on them." He snapped, staring at Harry for a couple seconds before he got the hint and stepped inside, looking around at the small entrance room. A dark green couch was shoved up against the wall, looking as though it had seen better days, with a corner table pressed in by its side, a stack of old newspapers and a glass sitting on it. There was a window to the side, opening to the side of the building since the apartment was to the end of the floor in the corner most position. There was an open arch to the right, leading directly into a large living space, with a double bed and closet on one end and the other having been converted into an open kitchen. The kitchen and sleeping space were divided by a partial wall doubling as a table, a chair tucked by it. There was another door at the opposite end of the room, presumably leading into the bathroom. Harry let the suitcase in his hand slide down to the floor, wondering absently if he could take a shower and crash for some time. He wasn't allowing himself to think about the fact that he was actually, willingly, staying at the home of a man that was barely an acquaintance, except for the fact that he had slept with him before. And didn't that make everything even more confusing.

"…It's not much, but…"

"It's fine, Squalo. I'm fine with this. You've got a comfortable place." Harry said, smiling over his shoulder at the silveret leaning against the front door with a closed expression on his face.

"Sure you're not regretting taking me up on this offer?" he asked archly. Harry rolled his eyes, and turned around to face the man.

"No, I'm not. I already _told_ you-" he broke off abruptly, scrabbling for some kind of handhold when the man reached out to tug him forward by his tie. Before he even knew what was happening, he had been spun around and slammed into the door. Squalo was pressed up against him, both hands pressed flat against the door on either side of him, his face lowered just enough that Harry could feel his warm, moist breath against his ear. He shivered.

"Still not regretting?" the pale eyed man murmured, his nails lightly scrapping against the wood of the door. Harry's eyes slid shut.

"No." he whispered. There was a mirthless snort from the man in front of him, and then, a pair of cold, chapped lips pressed against his own. Slowly. Not nearly as rough as the first time. Harry swallowed, and allowed his arms to slide upwards, looping around the taller man's neck.

He ran his fingers through the short, silver hair at the nape of his neck, and shuddered when the man's hand crept up to cup his chin, a thumb dragging down on his lower lip while Squalo tilted his head to a better angle. Those lips slanted over his own, the other man's tongue lightly running over his lips, tip sliding between them to lap at their inner surface. Harry groaned lowly, dragging his nails down the silveret's neck and making him nip at his lip in reply. Squalo's other hand closed over his tie, long fingers sliding into the knot and tugging at it to make it come loose.

Shifting his grip, he managed to slip the first two buttons of Harry's dark green shirt open before ignoring the rest and sliding his hand down the silken material, tugging it out of the black trousers the dark haired man was wearing. Harry groaned again, protesting silently when the man pulled away from his lips but willingly tilted his head to the side when he pressed his lips to the junction of his shoulder and neck. His lips parted in a gasp as he leant his head backwards against the door, feeling Squalo's hand glide up under his shirt, his fingers skimming lightly over his abdomen and chest before lazily encircling his right nipple. He could feel the silveret's lips curve into a smirk against his neck before those teeth languidly dragged up his skin to nip at it. Harry cursed inwardly, but he couldn't stop the moan that slipped from his lips when Squalo's thigh nudged its way between his legs, the pressure on his crotch doing strange things to his mind. As his fingers clutched at the material of the coat that Squalo was still wearing, he told himself that he had no reason not to give in to this. It had been a likely scenario ever since he'd agreed to the man's offer to stay at his home. And, honestly, it felt far too good to pull away from. But, Ginny…

'God…' he thought faintly, his fingers subconsciously tugging at the silveret, pulling him even closer and allowing his tongue to slide against the other man's own when he pressed an open mouthed kiss against his lips.

He must have been truly insane to agree to this.

***

Hello again, everyone. Thanks for all the encouraging reviews; it's great to hear that you liked the story. I hope you'll continue to leave reviews, both for this chapter and those that follow.

Well, now we have more of a base to work with. Yes, the chapter's shorter, but the next one will be longer. In advance, the chapters might come across as all over the place, with small or large time intervals between them. The interval between this one and the first will become obvious in the third chapter…

Till next time. And, **review**! It's what encourages me to get more plot possibilities…


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer **- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating - **PG-13/light PG-15 (To be on the safe side…)

**WARNINGS **- Slash, underage sexual relations, guys kissing, infidelity, swearing, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack (haha...) – **No real soundtrack for this chapter. Songs by Girugamesh, 10 years and Theory of a Deadman all feature in though.

* * *

**Serendipity**

**Chapter 3**

It was dark. Well, not necessarily _dark_, but dark all the same. He was warm, cocooned in a comfortable heat that he didn't feel like moving out of any time soon. Harry frowned unconsciously, trying to cling to the last of his sleep while his consciousness was insisting that it was well past the time for him to be out of bed.

Lids slowly parting, he stretched sleepily while trying to hold back a yawn. Once his eyes had focused enough for him to look around, he found that his silver haired roommate was comfortably lounging in the bed beside him, watching him with something akin to amusement glimmering in his eyes. He reached out absently to tug the other man closer for a kiss.

"Morning to you too," Squalo drawled once he pulled away, an amused smirk spread across his lips. Harry smiled back, before pushing himself up on his elbows.

"What time is it?" he asked, blinking drowsily. He felt the other man slide out of bed, and heard him scrabbling through the mess of clothes on the ground beside the foot of the bed for something to wear.

"No idea. Didn't bother looking at the clock yet." He stood up, easing himself into the pair of black track pants he'd managed to unearth from the pile.

Harry sighed, and rolled his shoulders sluggishly, wondering if it was worth getting out of bed just to grab some coffee. He'd been staying at Squalo's place for a total of seven days, and he'd found himself adjusting alarmingly well to living with the silver haired mafioso. He'd spent his time being ferried to the Vongola headquarters by Squalo himself, working through the majority of the day and taking a break only for lunch, when he'd either meet up with Dino, or go out to grab some takeout for himself instead. That plan working out only if Timoteo wasn't conveniently roaming around in the halls, proceeding to coerce him into eating some lunch together and discussing the wards. Once he was done for the day, he'd inadvertently find himself picking his way back to the apartment that he was sharing with Squalo and letting himself in, having been given a spare key. He would then wait for the other man, either amusing himself bugging Mario or reading through the varying books that Hermione had managed to sneak into his luggage.

He never really asked where Squalo disappeared to everyday, and the same courtesy was extended to him by the silveret. Both knew that they were doing their own jobs assigned to them by the Ninth, and that they had no business interfering in the other's work. Harry snorted to himself, shifting till he could slip his legs out of the nest of sheets they had gotten entangled in. If anyone had told him a few years ago that he would be helping out the Italian mafia and staying with a member of the same at some point in the future, he would have politely referred them to the mental disabilities ward of St. Mungo's. Now, though…

"Coffee?"

He blinked and looked up, eyes immediately latching onto Squalo's figure as the silveret moved around in the kitchenette, reaching up to one of the light wood cupboards to pull out a bottle of coffee powder. He couldn't tear his eyes away, not really certain if that was because of the promise of coffee or because of how distracting it was to see the other man's lean muscles ripple below his pale skin while he moved about shirtless. He continued to stare, even when Squalo paused for a moment to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. Finally noticing what he was doing, Harry blinked again, before forcefully averting his eyes. There was silence for a few moments, neither of them really saying anything, the only sound being that of Squalo's fingers tapping out an inane pattern on the lid of the bottle still in his hand. Then, there was the clink of the glass bottle being set down on the counter, and Harry felt his breath get caught in his throat when he heard Squalo moving back towards the bed.

That was another aspect of life in this place that he had gotten attuned to rather well. It was almost disgusting, what with him having Ginny back home. And, it wasn't as though he wasn't planning on going back to London and getting back to his life there as well. Just… there were certain things in life that just had to be accepted. One of these, as he had come to learn during his stay, was that Squalo Superbi and sex were almost synonymous. Another was that it was all but impossible to say no whenever the man came on to him.

And, anyway, it wasn't like he was even trying in the first place.

"You know, you shouldn't stare like that. It's indecent." The man in question murmured lowly, bending down, his breath washing over Harry's ear and throat at the same time. The dark haired man shivered, but he didn't bother hiding the grin that tugged at his lips.

"Since when was anything connected to you 'decent'?" he shot back drolly, making the other man snort, before a long fingered hand lightly closed around his left shoulder. It lingered for a second, before Squalo carelessly brushed it down his arm to close around his wrist. He turned his head, and Harry's eyes slid partway shut, feeling the other man's tongue glide lightly over his ear ridge, before lower and swirling. Harry's breath hitched, and he reached upwards to grip Squalo's shoulder with his right hand. He could feel the man's lips close over his earlobe, sucking lightly and making him groan in response. Just when he was considering leaning backwards and pulling the silveret down into bed after him, they were interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

Squalo muttered a curse, but pulled away all the same, and turned to stalk towards the kitchenette, having dropped his cell on the counter the night before. Harry was left staring after him with a mixed feeling of disappointment and relief. He pulled his legs up to settle comfortably below him on the bed, watching in curiosity as Squalo answered the call with a sharp snarl in Italian. He listened for a couple of seconds before proceeding to spit out a bunch of curses, each sounding harsher than the last, before muttering a rather sullen 'checché' and cutting the call. Harry tilted his head in question, but didn't bother to ask. Squalo had a tendency of snarling out the answer if he had any reason to.

"Think you can make it to headquarters yourself today? I need to get moving immediately." He said shortly, not looking around. Harry's eyebrows rose, and he eased himself out of bed.

"Sure, I'll be able to do that. Shouldn't be too hard to go there on my own if can I manage to find my way back everyday. Go take a shower; I'll get some food ready for us." He offered. Squalo looked back at him in surprise, before an honest smile flashed across his face, disappearing right after. He didn't say any more, instead moving towards his closet to grab a towel. Harry reached down to grab the sheets and wind one around his waist, not really in the mood to search through the mess of clothes for something clean to wear. The entire lot needed to be sent for a wash anyway, the sheets included. He would have to do that later, when he got back…

As he headed for the kitchenette himself, he could feel the other man's eyes raking over his form in an entirely unabashed manner. He smirked slightly, and pointedly swung his hips, just to get a reaction. He was rewarded with a snort of laughter from behind, before the bathroom door swung open and shut. As he set himself to making some coffee and eggs, Harry honestly wondered what he was doing with himself. He didn't feel nearly as guilty about sleeping with Squalo anymore, if only because he knew the man a lot better. It wasn't exactly a one night stand dragged out into something very strange, not now; it had gotten a lot more complicated than that. Because Harry knew for a fact that somewhere in the past couple days, he had come to consider the silveret a good friend. Possibly one that came with 'benefits', for lack of better terminology. He sighed explosively, and rubbed a hand over his face. Just as he was transferring the eggs onto two plates, he was interrupted yet again by the phone. Setting the pan down with a frown, he quickly made his way to the phone that was still on the counter, wondering what was so urgent that Squalo was getting so many calls. Catching sight of the rather rude slur flashing on the phone in lieu of an actual caller id, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Yes?" he asked lightly, before the person on the other end could say anything. There was silence for a few seconds, before a voice answered rather suspiciously.

"… Where the fuck is Squalo?"

It seemed rather high pitched. For a guy. Whoever it was, he couldn't have been very old.

"Squalo's taking a shower. Whom should I say called?" he countered, beginning to feel a little amused. Whoever the poor kid was, he was bound to be a little unnerved by now. If for no other reason than that he hadn't expected anyone else to pick up.

"Who the hell are you?" This time, the voice seemed a little sharper and less high pitched. A slight smirk flashed across Harry's face.

"Oh, just a friend of Squalo's. Again, who should I say called?"

Harry didn't get a chance to listen to the kid's reply, since he heard the slight creak that signified the bathroom door swinging open. He blinked, looking over his shoulder, and pulled the phone away from his ear. Though, from the snarling sounds coming from the other end, it was obvious that he wasn't missing out on much. Except, probably, a good laugh.

Squalo was standing partially out of sight, though the marginal glimpse of wet skin on the other side of the door was nearly enough to make Harry's mouth dry out. He automatically strode towards the door, and held the phone out. Squalo's hand was already stuck outside, waiting for the phone to be deposited. He immediately started snarling at the kid in Italian. Harry rolled his eyes, and leant against the closet, which was right beside the bathroom door. The rate at which it was going, he was going to be in for a long wait.

"Shut the fuck up, brat! That's none of your fucking business!"

Harry blinked, and quickly turned his attention back to the bathroom door. Squalo's arm had lashed out to slam his hand against the door quite roughly, and the last line had been completely in English. Harry couldn't help but feel curious. He wasn't surprised, though, when the door swung open and the phone came flying through to bounce violently onto the bed. At least it hadn't gone flying off to crash into the wall this time.

"Anyone I should know about?" he asked idly, tilting his head upwards, and shifting so that the sheet didn't go slipping off of his hips any time soon.

"…No. Not immediately, anyway. I won't be surprised if you run into him at some point, though. Would you mind grabbing a shirt and jacket for me?" Hmm. His voice wasn't nearly as irate as before. Harry's eyebrow twitched. Whoever the kid was, he must have been a piece of work to make Squalo's moods shift that quick. The only other time he'd seen the swordsman act that bipolar was when he spoke about the Ninth or about Dino. Or Xanxus, but that was a completely different story altogether.

"Go finish your shower, arsehole." He threw back, easing himself off of the light wood of the closet. He hadn't really gotten a chance to go through the other man's closet before, since he'd either been too busy, or just not interested. He quickly managed to locate a simple white dress shirt, not going for anything darker since the silveret hadn't specified anything, but he abruptly stopped short when he caught sight of the number of uniform-like jackets hanging from hangers in the closet. He hadn't seen the other man wearing _those_ before. He was left blinking, staring close to wide-eyed at the leather jackets, and was distracted enough that he didn't really notice Squalo stepping out of the bathroom. Though, he _did_ notice the damp arms that wound around him from behind. He started slightly, before sighing and leaning back.

"I see you caught sight of my jackets. Like 'em?" the man's voice was an amused rumble from behind, vibrating through his back and into his ear. Harry nodded dumbly. The silveret looked good enough to eat in a suit, but something about the jackets all but _screamed_ that he would look better in them. He leaned back more comfortably, while Squalo's arms tightened around him, slipping downwards almost teasingly. He shivered, feeling those long fingers brush lightly down his sides before they dipped down below the sheet wrapped around his middle.

"You shouldn't wear shit like this, makes people feel like shoving you into a wall," Squalo murmured lowly, his lips pressed agonisingly close to Harry's pulse. The dark haired man shivered, and slid his right arm back, up and over his shoulder so that he could reach the back of Squalo's neck. He shifted his grip so that he could twist his fingers into the hair at the base of the other man's head, and without much thought, tugged him forward into an angle where he could actually reach his lips. The silveret was smirking amusedly and willingly allowed himself to be tugged forward. He lifted his left arm, and pressed his fingers against Harry's neck, deliberately slipping them down the wizard's rapidly warming skin. Harry gasped out loud, his lips already parted when Squalo closed the distance between them to press an open mouthed kiss against his lips. Harry's eyes clenched shut, his fingers tightening in their grip over silver-white hair. The swordsman growled lowly, the fingers of his right hand closing roughly around the haphazard knot Harry had made to hold up the sheet while he tilted his head further into the hold that the emerald-eyed man had on his neck. He tugged at the cloth pointedly, closing his lips around the other man's lower lip in the same moment and sucking _hard._

Harry's grip became near painful, as his breath hitched in his throat. Forcefully pulling his fingers away from the taller man's hair, he turned himself around and leant back into the shelves of the closet, slipping both arms around Squalo's neck and all but crushing their lips together again. The silveret's lips were partially parted in a sharp grin, and Harry dragged his nails down as harshly as he could into the man's scalp, making him gasp. He was warned off with a harsh nip to his lips, but he simply smirked into the rough kiss. Squalo's hand harshly closed around his chin and all but wrenched it upwards into an angle that was almost as painful as it made his toes curl from the torrent of heat that rushed through him. The silveret forced his tongue past Harry's lips, delving deep and over his teeth and the ridges of the roof of his mouth. The dark haired wizard was left trembling, wondering just how far the bed was or if he should just consider shoving the other man to the ground, when they were interrupted.

Again.

"VOOOOOOOOOOOOOI! I AM GOING TO FUCKING SLAUGHTER THAT FUCKING BRAT! FUCKING PRINCE MY ASS!" Squalo roared, wrenching himself away from the grip Harry had over his neck. Harry groaned in protest, glaring after the silveret as he went after his still ringing phone. Tuning out the sound of Squalo screaming into the receiver, Harry forcefully turned himself around, and dragged out a pair of leather pants and one of the leather uniform jackets he had seen earlier, all the while sobbing internally. If the number of times the kid had called up were any indication, Squalo had to leave _immediately_. And the attire that he was picking out for the other man was _not_ going to help how frustrated he was feeling. Catching sight of a nondescript black wallet lying on the top shelf of the closet, right below the clothes hangers, he decided to grab it as well.

As the 'conversation' going on behind him continued, he dumped the clothes and wallet onto the bed and sat himself down; starting when the wallet slipped off the leather it had landed on. It had managed to flip open on its way down, and as Harry reached down to pick it up, his eyes were drawn to the driving license that was placed in the front pocket. Smirking at the sight of a Squalo that was actually looking stoic for once, and not yelling, scowling, smirking or sneering, he smoothly lifted the wallet off the ground. Just as he was going to shut the wallet and place it back on the bed, though, he caught sight of the birth date that was printed on the license. The wallet abruptly slipped out of strangely nerveless fingers.

_"1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. __1981. 19-"_

* * *

"That god-damned idiot, I ought to rip him a new – Harry?"

Harry blinked, and looked up into his friend's pale blue eyes, which were beginning to look mildly concerned. He felt numb.

"1981."

Squalo blinked, looking bemused.

"What happened in 1981?"

"You were born in 1981."

Another blink, a glance down to the wallet, before the silveret snorted derisively.

"Oh, the license. No, not 1981. I needed to get my driving license a little earlier because of some mess I got into last year, so I was actually born in _1982._" He explained, smirking slightly. Harry paled.

"You-that-that- _that's even worse!_" he yelped, leaping up to stare up at the silveret, who was beginning to look a little alarmed. And annoyed.

"What's even worse?" Squalo asked irately, his eyebrows pinching together in confusion.

"I-you-you-I-you're-you're _seventeen!_" Harry managed to get out helplessly. Squalo look one look at the other man's horrified looking face, put two and two together, and burst out laughing.

Harry felt his face burn up, fisting his hands and frowning as Squalo all but collapsed into the bed in front of him, hunched over in unending laughter. His hands were planted on his knees, as he continued to shake with the effort of holding his amusement in once he ran out of air. When he finally looked up again, Harry was amazed to see a wide grin on the other man's face, his cheeks flushed slightly due to exertion.

"Your point being?" he asked easily, the grin swiftly edging into a smirk. Harry's flush deepened, and he looked away.

"And you were sixteen. Before. In China. You-that-the-"

"I was sixteen the first time. Yeah. Your point being?" the amusement in his tone was undeniable this time. Harry gritted his teeth together, and his eyebrows lowered in a pained frown.

"For God's sake, Squalo, this isn't funny! You were _sixteen!_ A bloody minor! You _still are_! And I'm _twenty one!_ For crying out loud, this-this isn't right, it- _Hey!" _ His disturbed torrent of words was cut away sharply when the still smirking silveret latched onto his wrist and tugged him down roughly. With his legs awkwardly straddling the other man and his hands planted on his shoulders, Harry found the position alarmingly familiar.

"You know, you're acting like you were the one who forced yourself on _me_," Squalo murmured teasingly, his thumb stroking slow circles over the dark haired man's hipbone. Harry swallowed, mentally cursing himself for not having worn anything that could actually _stay_ on his hips earlier. How the hell was he supposed to know that he would manage to get himself into a situation like this?

"That's not the point. Whoever started it, you were still a minor. If I'd been able to-"

"What, control yourself? You did quite an admirable job of trying to. If I remember right, _I_ was the one to shove you onto the floor and have my way with you."

Harry stiffened, his fingers tightening till they were gripping the younger man's shoulders painfully. He did nothing to hide the glare that was blossoming on his face. Squalo had the audacity to laugh, his eyes filled with vindictive humour.

"You fucking _arsehole_, can't you even _try _to see what I'm getting at here?!!" he hissed, shoving his face closer to the silveret's, until they were separated by barely a fraction of an inch. And Squalo was still smirking.

"Oh, sure I can. And, I honestly don't give a damn. It's like I tried to tell you when I first met you, Potter, _live a little_. A couple years difference never hurt anyone. You're just freaking out because I was sixteen. If I'd been eighteen, and if you'd been twenty two back then, would it have made you feel even half as guilty? You'd still have been four years older than me."

Harry winced, knowing that what the man was saying made sense. But, he was a _minor_, and, and… well, he wouldn't go as far as to call himself a paedophile, the word didn't make any sense when used against a person like Squalo, no matter _how _old he was, but…

"You're still thinking." The murmured words were low, and right against his lips. Harry groaned internally. He didn't like where this was leading. He really didn't. He should be getting up and backing off right now, it was bad enough that he was sleeping with another man when he was already engaged, but this just made it so much _worse_, and Squalo was leaning closer and _God_ he knew he wouldn't be able to say no once the other man's lips were on his own and-

He cursed inwardly, his eyes slowly slipping shut as Squalo's tongue languidly brushed against his lips, tracing their junction gently, almost lapping at them. Harry slid his arms around the man's neck, pressing closer and parting his lips, mentally sighing in defeat. He knew he shouldn't be surprised. It wasn't like Squalo would have let him go for a reason as minor as age. Or guilt. The hand on his hip smoothly slid over onto his back, the man's long fingers absently brushing against the ridges of his spine and making him shiver. They lightly ran upwards, absently tangling in his hair, before jerking his head to a more comfortable angle. Harry sighed into the kiss, readily twining his tongue with the slick muscle that was ghosting across his canines. Tilting his head further, he groaned softly when Squalo's other hand slipped south, over his back, kneading muscles along the way. The other man hissed when Harry's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging violently at the silver strands. He bit down roughly at Harry's lip, sharp enough to draw blood, before laving his tongue over the wound, following every last trace of blood that spilt down the green eyed man's chin.

"Fucking sadist…" Harry mumbled huskily, tilting his head backwards when Squalo pulled away to lick a trail down his throat. The silveret laughed harshly, before dipping his tongue into the hollow between Harry's collarbones. He moaned lowly, licking his lips and shivering at the coppery tang that filled his mouth. His lips parted reflexively, gasping when Squalo's hands deliberately gripped his legs from behind, fingers slipping easily between them and lightly stroking against the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, while his lips closed over the sloping ridge of his collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. The older man began to feel a little light-headed, most of his blood rushing south. He shakily threaded the fingers of one hand through Squalo's hair, and wound the other arm around his shoulders, pulling him as close as he possibly could, biting his lower lip when he felt more than heard the other man laugh breathlessly against his chest.

Squalo chanced a look upwards, giving a feral grin when he caught sight of a darkened pair of green eyes watching him intently, Harry's lips parted as he breathed harshly. He slowly slid his hands higher, delighting in the flash of frustration in those eyes when he purposely passed by where the man _wanted _his hands to be, and settled his hands on his hips instead. He coaxed the dark haired man to shift his position until he was arching over Squalo instead. He lifted a hand and pressed it against the man's side to help steady him, before slipping his tongue out and delicately ghosting it across one of the tightened nubs right above his face, all the while keeping his gaze locked on the darkened emerald eyes above. Harry groaned, his grip on Squalo's hair becoming akin to a vice as he shuddered violently, wishing that the man would just _move_, and do _something _more than driving him up the _fucking wall_-

**BANGBANGBANGKRA-**_**THUNK**_**.**

The two men all but sprang away from each other, Harry almost crashing onto the ground in shock. They turned to stare wide-eyed towards the entryway, waiting to see if they would hear any other sounds. Squalo pushed himself off of the bed, and offered a hand up to the dark haired man on the floor. While Squalo's face was slowly darkening, a suspicious frown beginning to form on his face, Harry went from shocked to incensed in a flash. He waved away the hand and got up himself.

"Who the _bloody fuck-" _He began, glaring harshly, when Squalo quickly made a hushing motion. The silver haired man silently made his way to the door, grabbing his sword from its stand on the way. He waited for a few seconds by archway, not making any move. Harry's glare slowly melted away, replaced with a narrow eyed look. He backed off, making his way to the pile of clothes by the bed, reaching down to snatch the first thing that came to his hands. He glanced down, and rolled his eyes when he saw the black tracks that Squalo had been wearing earlier. Tugging them on, he moved back to the bed and grabbed the leather pants he had removed from the closet. Grabbing one of his magi pistols from the bedside table, he quietly made his way to the still silent mafioso, and wordlessly offered the pants to the man, who was still waiting, surprisingly patient. Glancing at the pants, Squalo rolled his eyes, but quickly grabbed them and slid them on. Harry had to look away to stop his eyes from bugging out. He hadn't thought it was _possible_ to slide on a pair of leather pants that fast.

Just when they were starting to get tired of waiting, there was another series of bangs, this time without the 'thunk'.

"Superbi! There's a kid out here waiting for you! Just come out and take care of him, will you, he's starting to creep me out!"

Both blinked started, blinked, and straightened, Harry trying not to groan out loud. Mario. All that paranoia, and it had been _Mario._ Then again, you couldn't exactly call it paranoia when they _were_ out to get you…

Except, Squalo was still frowning, had been since Mario had yelled out that bit about a kid. He quickly stepped forward and unlocked the door, swinging it open to stare down at the mousy brown haired man intensely.

"What was that about a kid?" he asked in Italian. Harry blinked, surprised. He'd been so keyed up before that he hadn't even noticed that Mario had been speaking in Italian.

Mario was quaking where he was standing, staring wide eyed up at Squalo. Harry rolled his eyes, and stepped forward, quietly placing a hand on the swordsman's shoulder to calm him down. He turned his gaze on Mario, who was beginning to look shocked and more than a little mortified. Thinking back a couple seconds, Harry sighed mentally. He didn't even _want_ to know how suspicious the two of them were looking right now. Taking a while to come to the door and then answering when they were both shirtless? He wasn't surprised that Mario was beginning to look so embarrassed.

"Mario. What were you saying about a kid? The faster you tell us, the faster we can look into it and the less time you'll need to spend out here on our doorstep," he offered with a pleasant, placating smile. The small Italian trembled, nodded, took a deep breath, before the words rushed out of him in a torrent.

"Thiskid, hejustcameuptomydoorstep, hebanged on thethethedoor, andslammedacoupleknivesintoit andandandalmostinto _me_ whenItoldhimtobealittle_politeand-"_

"Right. That'll do." Squalo said curtly. Mario breathed a sigh of relief, nodded quickly to Harry, and proceeded to scurry back to his home. Harry was left staring after him until he shot down the stairs. He then looked up at Squalo.

"What exactly was that all about?"

The silveret winced distastefully, before turning around and marching inside.

"_That_ was the reason I asked you to go on your own to headquarters. I need to do some babysitting."

"Right. Babysitt- is that a _knife_ stuck in the door?" he ended incredulously, staring at the silvery weapon sticking out of the wood. Squalo muttered something uncomplimentary under his breath before storming back and yanking it out of the door. He then spun around and went inside, leaving Harry to follow him in a daze. The green-eyed wizard remained standing blankly by the door, magi pistol dangling limply from one hand and watching as Squalo roughly shrugged on his shirt, snatched up the jacket, knocked down his coffee and eggs in one go before coming back to the door.

"Pick you up from headquarters later?" the silveret asked, almost looking awkward. Harry blinked, and quickly shook off his blank stupor, before smiling up at him.

"I'll give you a call. Dino was insisting on taking me sightseeing or something today, so I'm really not sure…"

"I'll wait for the call, then. I should be relatively free. Except for the babysitting… Damned Vongola…" he mumbled the last few words, piquing Harry's curiosity, though he didn't pose any questions. His friend looked harried enough without them.

He stood watching as Squalo efficiently slung on his jacket, and leisurely reached out to do the buttons. He could feel the other man's pale gaze focused on the top of his head as his fingers worked their way through the metallic buttons and leather, but he ignored it until he was done. When his fingers finally drew away from the material of the jacket, Squalo abruptly reached out and tilted his head upwards, the swordsman's callused fingers faintly brushing against the underside of his chin. Harry's eyes slipped partway closed as the other man's thumb gently ghosted over his lips. Squalo had a strange expression on his face, but he was leaning in to slant his lips over Harry's before the dark haired man could figure out what it was supposed to mean.

It was soft, and much slower than anything Squalo was usually willing to give. Harry unconsciously leant back against the doorjamb, reaching out to curl his fingers behind the other man's neck, tugging him closer. The silveret's tongue was languidly brushing against the junction of his lips, lightly dipping between them to brush against their soft inner surface, but not going any further. Harry sighed inwardly, and forced himself to pull away before he was tempted to drag the other man back inside.

"Get going, dumbass."

The mafioso rolled his eyes, but stepped back and continued down the corridor, his sword held in hand. Harry stood for a few moments, watching until he was out of sight before turning around to go back inside. He had to get ready and get to work himself.

*

As the last of the chant slipped from his lips, Harry finally allowed himself to relax, his arm drifting downwards. The magic still thrumming in the air had a warm, moist and heady feel to it, and the longer he stood in it, the more drugged he felt. He stretched out a hand to steady himself against the wall, squinting through his magically enhanced spectacles.

It was a nostalgic feeling, having that familiar weight on his face again. The minute his application to the Department of Mysteries had been accepted, he had been given an eyesight-correcting potion with orders to down it as soon as it was handed to him. Something about bad sight being a liability in the long run. Not finding any reason _not_ to get his eyesight corrected, he had agreed. He had thankfully been allowed to keep his old spectacles, with one of the senior Unspeakables in the department enchanting them to give him magical sight, invaluable when crafting or working with wards.

The deep, crystalline orange texture of the newly crafted wards as they throbbed with power, locked in place, was comforting, if baffling. He had mentioned the odd colour of the wards to the Ninth, but the grandfatherly man had simply laughed, and said that the colour was inherent to the Vongola line. Harry had honestly not understood what the hell the man had been talking about, but he'd nodded in acquiescence all the same. Feeling the cloying feel of the magic starting to settle on his skin, he forced himself to pull away from the wall and headed back out, holstering his wand at the same time. As he stepped out of the little alcove he had been cloistered in, a large hand slammed into the wall right beside his head. He stopped right before he could slam into the broad, suit-clad chest in front of him. The hair of the back of his neck stood on end, as the opening in the wall behind him slid shut with nary a sound.

Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself, before looking up. The face that met his gaze made his eyebrows rise in surprise.

"You know the trash." The words were brusque, harsh, and not at all surprising, considering the identity of the person saying them.

Harry tilted his head slightly, honestly wondering what the distinguished heir to the Vongola family would want with him.

"Well, if you would tell me who, exactly, you're speaking of…"

Xanxus' crimson eyes narrowed, and Harry felt the air beside his head pulse with heat. He barely blinked, forcing himself to remain calm. However dangerous the man was, and he'd heard enough tales to verify that he _was_ very dangerous, the chances that he would attack a guest of his father's were slim. Especially when the guest was working on the defences of the Vongola headquarters.

"…the fucking shark." He bit out finally, lips pursed. Harry blinked, confused until his mind managed to connect the word to a name.

"You mean Squalo?" he asked bemusedly. The sneer that his words brought on was answer enough.

"Ah, then, yes, I guess I _do_ know him." Well, well. Wasn't this interesting. He hadn't known that Squalo had actually met up with the man. The last bit of interaction he'd seen or heard of between them had been back at the party.

Xanxus continued to eye him for a few seconds, before he snorted and pulled away from the wall.

"The old man wants to see you. Come on." With that, the tanned man turned and strode down the corridor, leaving Harry no choice but to follow quietly. Or, at least, _try_ to follow quietly.

"Old man? You mean, the Ninth? He called for me?" Harry hid a smirk, catching sight of the nearly imperceptible twitch that passed through the younger man's shoulders.

"Keep your mouth shut, fucking trash."

Wow. He might have actually felt cowed by that, if it weren't for the fact that Xanxus' words lacked any true anger. They only sounded mildly irritated, if that. Harry smothered a chuckle, hastily hiding it behind a cough when the red eyed man shot a decidedly suspicious look back at him. When Harry gave him a positively angelic look, he developed a rather amusing tic above his left eyebrow, and proceeded to march forward at a faster pace. Harry tried not to get amused. He really did.

'Oh… I shouldn't get so much pleasure out of baiting a guy that can incinerate me with his bare hands. Literally.' He thought idly.

"…I think he wants to know how much longer it's going to take."

Harry started, and couldn't help but stare at the Vongola's back in a sort of stupefied daze. He'd actually volunteered a marginally informative answer? Without any swearing, or insults?

"…Right. Not much longer, I think I've got most areas of the headquarters done. A couple underground chambers need to be warded, and maybe some watchtowers around the centre, but the main house itself is done. This was the last spot that needed to be covered above ground. All I need to do is merge the upper wards with the underground layers, and the main house should become impregnable with regard to whatever Timoteo asked for." He mused aloud. Xanxus' back stiffened.

"You're a naïve fool. Why the fuck are you discussing this shit with me? What if I decide to use it against the old man?" he asked coldly. Harry rolled his eyes, and looked down.

"While I'm doing this as a favour for Timoteo, the main reason he asked me to do this is to protect the Vongola family itself. Even if you_ do_ decide to use it against him, the wards would still be protecting the essence of Vongola. So, I'm not going against what Timoteo asked me to do." he stated dully. He could feel the other man's eyes focusing on him, though he couldn't figure out what was going through the other's head.

"…You're about as strange as the fucking shark is."

Harry couldn't help the bark of laughter that ripped out of his throat.

"Thanks. Coming from the guy that idiot's decided to follow for the rest of his life, I think I'll take that as a compliment."

*

After finishing his discussion with Timoteo and offering a passing nod to the man's son, Harry quickly made his way towards the main gates of the headquarters. It was already past seven, and he figured that he could call Squalo along the way to grab an early dinner with him. Hopefully the man wouldn't mind going out to eat. Though, after a day filled with the stress of babysitting a brat that wielded throwing knives, he wouldn't be surprised if Squalo would jump at the chance to treat himself to some restaurant fare. Just as he was beginning to mentally run through the few restaurants he knew in the area, he stopped short, staring at the sight of a familiar, messy blond head in the reception area.

"Dino!" he called out, a surprised smile tugging at his lips. The blond mob boss immediately looked up from his quiet discussion with his right hand, a wide grin breaking out on his face.

"_Buona sera_!" he called back cheerfully, making the older man grin.

"Good evening to you too, mate. What the hell are you doing here this late though, if you don't mind me asking?"

Dino gave a slight smirk, and shook his head.

"Oh, just thought I could meet up with you for dinner instead of lunch today, since Timoteo's been monopolising your time. Are you free to go out?"

Harry gave a delighted smile, though he _did_ feel embarrassed at the amount of attention the Cavallone head was lavishing on him.

"Yeah, I'm free now. I was actually planning on going out for some dinner myself. You know, Cavallone, if you continue in this vein, you're going to give people more than a few doubts."

A pair of wide and perfectly innocent golden-brown eyes blinked at him.

"Doubts? Whatever are you talking about?"

Harry stared for a moment, before turning a pained gaze on the older Cavallone family right hand standing calmly behind his boss. Unsuccessfully trying to smother a look of sheer amusement. Damn. No help from that end. Not that he actually needed it, of course. Dino was intelligent enough, however much he enjoyed playing the fool. He knew _exactly_ what Harry was getting at. He just didn't give a damn about it either way.

'…And I learn just _why_ Dino and Squalo get along so well. Why couldn't there have been only one of them?'

"Nothing. Nothing at all. I do hope you've got some place figured out, because after all the work I've been doing since morning, my mind's a complete blank." He deadpanned. Dino was all but bouncing in place, leaving Harry feeling as though he had crossed over into some kind of alternate universe. Where the hell was the man he had first met? The guy who could actually have passed off as mob boss material? And when, exactly, had he been replaced with this teenage bundle of excess energy?

"Oh, I know just the place. Come on! Romario, call ahead and tell them to set out a table for three-"

"Boss-"

"No buts. You'll be eating along with us. The rest of the guys will have to make space for themselves though; I don't think its fair on the restaurant if I suddenly book the entire place on such short notice…"

Harry was left following after them in a befuddled stupor. He knew that somewhere underneath the woolly feeling, he was laughing rather hysterically at how insane his life had gotten recently. What with eating meals with mob bosses, discussing possible treason with a mob boss's son and the fact that he was bloody well _sleeping_ with a mobster, it was like the world had turned on its head. He just hoped that he would get the chance to call Squalo and ask if he would like to join them for dinner.

*

"Well, if you're sure you don't want to get some gelato…"

Harry groaned out loud, and leant back against his seat.

"Dino, you've already treated me more than necessary. We had best get back to our homes, it's late enough." He said pointedly, dropping his wallet on the table with a huff. The Cavallone head was watching him with a small smile on his face.

"Well, if you're sure…"

"Quite. Shall we get moving, then? I need to give someone a call…"

Dino nodded agreeably, and within minutes, both of them were standing outside in the alley leading to the small restaurant. Harry fished out his cellphone, all the while trying not to imagine Hermione's reaction if she ever set foot in this place. The food was stellar, yes, but the ambiance of the restaurant's surroundings could do with a change.

"Shall I give you a lift home?" Dino offered pleasantly. Harry made a stilling motion, asking him to wait while he made the call. Now, to hope that Squalo wasn't home yet.

"_VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI! You're done with your little dinner date?"_

Harry scowled.

"For God's sake, mate. I already told you-"

"_Yeah, yeah. I'm already in the area; give me a minute to get till the restaurant." _And, with that, the silveret hung up. Harry pulled the phone away from his year to scowl at it. When he finally turned back to Dino, the blond was watching him with a raised eyebrow.

"I take it the call didn't go well, then?"

"Oh, no. The call went great. He's on his way to pick me up now."

The other eyebrow rose to join the first.

"…He?" the man's tone was neutral, though his eyes were filled with curiosity. Harry blinked, and gave an uncomfortable laugh.

"Oh, right. I never told you, right? I'm-"

"VOOOOOOOOI! Aren't you done yet?!!"

Dino started and spun round to gape at the tall, silver haired man standing at the other end of the alley. Harry had to fight the urge to bang his head against a wall. Paying no attention to the shocked expressions of the Cavallone boss and his right hand man, Squalo strode forward with an evil look in his eye.

"I asked you to call only if you were done, you damned-"

"_Circe_, Squalo, I called you as soon as we were done with dinner, doesn't that count?!!" Harry snapped, glaring up at the taller man. Squalo simply scowled back, and seemed content to continue the argument, when they were interrupted by a pointed cough. Both blinked, and looked back at the blond haired mob boss, who was looking more confused as time passed.

"Squalo, what in the world are you doing here?" he asked carefully. Squalo blinked again, and looked down at Harry. The green eyed man flushed slightly, and looked away. Squalo snorted contemptuously, and looked back at Dino.

"He called earlier, asking if I would like to join the two of you for dinner, but I was still caught up with some work, so I offered him a ride back instead." He explained. Harry tried not to feel impressed. Completely the truth, except for certain facts that he just didn't mention. Dino looked sceptical, but didn't pry any further.

"If that's the case, then, I guess that's it for now. Good to see you again, though, Squalo." He offered, a wide smile pasting itself on his face. Squalo sneered at him, while Harry coughed, trying to hide his laughter.

"See you tomorrow, or whenever else, Dino."

The blond nodded back, a happy smile on his face. Squalo dropped his hands to Harry's shoulders, and steered him around, not pulling away until they were well out of sight of the restaurant. Harry sighed, and rolled his shoulders.

"You know, he's a nice guy. Though it's weird, how much he goes out of his way to get to know me better. If I wasn't certain that that's all he wants, I might have been a little worried," he mused. Squalo rolled his eyes, and looked down.

"…The fucking horse lost a lot of friends, back when he was forced into becoming the Cavallone family boss. He barely interacts with anyone unless they're a part of Cavallone anymore. It's the same case with Vongola. The only reason he gets along so well with the people in Vongola is because the Ninth sent someone to tutor him, back when he was having trouble with dealing with the shit that comes with being a family head." He muttered. Harry blinked in surprise, before smiling sadly.

"So, you mean to say I'm one of the few guys he's acquainted with that _isn't_ a part of the mafia?" he asked quietly. Squalo sneered.

"I didn't say anything of the sort, bitch."

"Don't call me that. I have-"

"A name. Yeah, yeah."

Neither of them spoke any more after that, content to walk in silence. Harry was tempted to ask if the other man had gotten anything to eat yet, but with the sort of mood he was in, he figured it would be best to stay silent. At least until they got to the car. And, if not the car, then until they got back home.

By the time they reached the car, though, Harry was thoroughly disgusted with the amount of filth they'd had to walk by. The alleys were a dirty mess of interconnecting paths, each leading to another area of the city or deeper into the dark depths of the labyrinthine network of the city's notorious underbelly. He was certain that if he hadn't come with someone who obviously knew his way around the place, he would have been hopelessly lost. Just when he was ready to burst out, demanding how much further they would have to walk, they turned a corner and Harry found himself staring at Squalo's car, the muted silver not even drawing much attention to itself. He ground out a curse, and ran a hand through his hair. He knew without looking that the younger man was watching him with a smirk on his face. Making sure not to look towards the other man, he made his way to the car, leaning against the door to the passenger seat and waiting for Squalo to open the locks. He started in surprise when he turned to find that the silveret had silently followed him, boxing him against the side of the car without making a sound. He looked up with an exasperated expression on his face.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" he asked tiredly, crossing his arms and resting his weight against the door. Squalo snorted, and leant closer till they were both face to face.

"What do you think?" he shot back, making Harry roll his eyes.

"Honestly, mate? If I understood how your mind worked, we wouldn't even _be_ here right-" he closed his eyes, words being swallowed into the mouth that was pressed into his own. Why the hell wasn't he even surprised, anymore? He lifted his arms, comfortably looping them around the taller man's neck, slipping his tongue out to meet the other man partway. He groaned lowly when one of Squalo's hands drifted down, palm pressed against his neck and the fingers working to tilt his face to a better angle.

His fingers tangled into the silver-white strands when Squalo pulled away with a wet sound, tongue lightly tracing his lips before he dropped his face lower, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. Harry's fingers tightened on the other man's hair, tilting his head back to give him freer access to his neck, and found himself staring up into the full moon hanging above them. He tried not to give in to the urge to snigger uncontrollably. Shit, he never thought he would find himself making out with a silver haired male under the moon in some seedy alley in Italy of all places… His breath hitched in his throat, and he bit his lip, feeling the other man's lips and tongue warmly stroking against his neck, moving faster as his hand dropped to the tie at his neck. It was only when those long fingers slipped between the knot and his shirt that Harry began to feel some stirrings of alarm.

"Squalo, st-nngh… You idiot, we're in a god damned alley, can't we get back home firs-" he cut himself off with a choked sound, eyes widening when he caught sight of the speechless blond standing at the opening to the nook in which Squalo had parked his car. Squalo pulled away immediately, an irate expression on his face, until he noticed the shell-shocked look on the dark haired wizard's face. He spun around, a glare on his face, before pausing when he noticed the blond himself.

All three men were silent, staring at each other, no one quite sure what to say. The awkward silence was broken when Romario's voice called out.

"Boss! Boss, you shouldn't suddenly run off like that, what if you get hurt… Did you find them?" Dino turned slightly to call back, though his eyes didn't move away from the scene in front of him. Whatever he had been expecting to see when he had chased after the two men to return Harry's wallet, this definitely hadn't been it.

"Yeah, I found them. Just wait for me over there; I should be fine with these two over here."

Harry was beginning to look more uncomfortable the longer he stood there, back pressed against the car, while Squalo's eyebrows had lowered in a rather impressive scowl. Neither spoke a word, simply waiting for a reaction from Dino's side. Well, that was all well and good, if he knew what kind of reaction to _give_.

"How long?" he managed finally. Squalo's gaze turned icy.

"None of your fucking busi-" he began, but cut himself off when Harry's hand closed over his shoulder. The green eyed man had a resigned look on his face.

"Squalo, I'll talk to him. You want to come with us, or…?" The silveret looked at him over his shoulder, eying him silently for a moment, before snorting in disgust.

"Do whatever you want. I don't give a damn what he thinks, it really isn't any of his business." He growled. Dino was surprised that the statement actually _hurt_, inspite of knowing that this was how Squalo usually was. Prickly and impatient to a fault, always unwilling to get along with people in general. Unless they understood him enough to get below his loud, brash and belligerent exterior. Then, he at least _tried _to ignore their existence, rather than continually chasing them away. It had been the reason he had been delighted that the man actually _got along_ with Harry. Obviously, the camaraderie between the two hadn't been the entirety of the story.

Harry was frowning slightly, staring up at the silveret with a vexed expression painted across his face.

"You don't expect me to believe that, do you."

"Fuck. You." The pale eyed man ground out, making Harry snort.

"In any other case, I might have said something different, but under the circumstances…" he said wryly. Dino's eyebrows rose in surprise, while Squalo continued to stare at the older man, before he finally mumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath and scrabbled for the car keys. Dino watched silently, beginning to feel a little amazed as Squalo unlocked the car and dragged his suit jacket from inside. The blond mob boss couldn't help but notice that Harry's eyes had widened, however imperceptible it was. Slipping the jacket on, he slammed the car door shut, locking the car right after.

"Right. Where the fuck are we going to do this?" he demanded roughly. Dino had to force himself not to grin, while Harry was looking more than a little amused.

"Have you eaten dinner yet?" he asked suddenly. Both Dino and Squalo turned to stare at him in confusion. Squalo wordlessly shook his head. Harry smirked.

"Well then. Back to the restaurant… Dino? Do you think anyone would he- Ah, crap… Think like a bloody wizard, you idiot…" Dino had to strain his ears to catch the end of the sentence. He coughed, while Squalo rolled his eyes.

"Since _that's_ been covered…" he left the sentence open ended, turning to look back at him. Dino blinked, before nodding with a small smile, and turning to lead the way.

*

The waitress had looked rather distressed when they had gotten back, though she had calmed down when she caught sight of himself and Squalo quietly following Dino.

"_Dio mio, signore_! I thought you wouldn't be able to find him!" she gasped in Italian, rushing forward. Dino laughed gaily, waving her off.

"He hadn't gone too far, _signorina._ In fact, we managed to run into a friend who hasn't had dinner yet. If you could lead us to a table? And, one that's a little away from the clutter and noise in the centre, if you please." He said pleasantly. She nodded immediately, blushing prettily, and quickly led them to a booth set well away from the main door and the other tables. In fact, the only chance anyone had of listening in on their conversation would be if they were sitting in the booth beside the one they had been led to. And it was empty.

"Shall I get you the menu right away, _signore?_" she asked, still staring at Dino. Harry coughed, trying to hold in his laughter, while Squalo was smirking slightly. Dino continued to give a bright smile.

"That would be wonderful. As quick as possible, please."

She nodded enthusiastically, and was gone before any of them could get another word out. Unable to control himself anymore, Harry broke down into helpless snickers, leaning against the silveret sitting in the booth beside him. Squalo was looking down at him with an amused smirk, while Dino was pouting, though the mischievous gleam in his eyes told a tale of just how honest that pout was.

They continued to wait until the waitress came back, quickly offering the menu to Dino, whose pout had immediately been switched with a charming smile. It was only once they had placed their orders and she had finally been convinced to back off that Harry straightened with a rueful smile.

"Looks like I _do_ get to buy you that gelato, Harry." Dino offered, his smile not slipping in the slightest. Harry sighed, and unobtrusively drew his wand from his wrist holster, waving it silently under the table and murmuring the necessary words to place a notice-me-not spell over their table. He quickly followed it with a silencing barrier, before re-holstering his wand and looking up.

"Looks like you do. So, what do you want to know?" he asked easily. Squalo leant back against the worn leather upholstery of the seats, looking bored. Dino's smile dulled at the edges, before it was completely wiped away, and he leant back in his seat as well.

"Well, for one… I thought you said you have a fiancée back in London?" he asked pointedly. Harry flinched, and looked away, while Squalo barked out a laugh.

"Trust you to pick the hardest one to answer," he said amusedly. Harry stiffened, but he didn't volunteer an answer. Dino's eyebrows had risen in surprise.

"Well, for one, none of this shit was his idea, Cavallone. If anything, the only reason we're actually in the middle of anything would be because of me." He continued; his lips twisted into a rough smile. His eyes were as sharp as ever, daring Dino to say anything uncomplimentary. Dino quickly raised his hands defensively, but was saved from needing to say anything when Harry spun back around.

"Don't say it like that- it's like you're bloody well _forcing_ me to sleep with you or something," he snapped irately. Dino choked. Harry blinked and turned back to him, and his cheeks suddenly went a violent shade of red. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, before finally settling for an embarrassed groan. Squalo was looking far too satisfied with himself.

The three men stayed silent, and Harry willed his cheeks to go back to their normal colour, thanking God for the distraction when the waitress from before came back with Squalo's order for dinner and bowls of chocolate gelato for himself and Dino. He waited until she had left, swallowing a spoonful of the rich frozen dessert in front of him, but not being able to find it in himself to enjoy the flavour. Squalo snatched up his fork and knife, and tore into the steak placed before him with relish. Harry abruptly cleared his throat.

"… You were asking about my fiancée, right? Well, it's not like I've broken up with her. And, I _am_ going back to London," he began awkwardly, but Dino quickly waved away the answer with a smile.

"You don't need to answer that one. Not yet. I'm sure you have your own reasons for doing whatever it is you are. _Both_ of you," he added, shooting a shrewd look at Squalo. The silveret stiffened, his fingers reflexively clenching around the fork still held in his hand. Harry's eyes narrowed. Whatever Dino was talking about, the last part of that statement hadn't been related to their liaison.

"But, honestly, how the hell did you two get into a situation like this? I mean, for God's sake, I hadn't even known that you _knew_ each other all that well, let alone the fact that you're sleeping together!" he said, looking disturbed. Harry laughed nervously, while Squalo went back to downing his steak.

"That _could _have something to do with the way we met each other…" Harry explained, his lips stretched out in a rather strained smile. Squalo suddenly looked up.

"We met each other in a seedy bar in Taiwan after a job. I saved him from getting shot in the heart, we headed off to a safe house and ended up in bed right after." He explained succinctly. Dino stared at him, and then turned to stare at Harry in turn. The dark haired man rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and then nodded. Dino whistled lowly, looking mildly impressed.

"I should be surprised by this, but I can't say I am." He commented amusedly. Harry sighed, and nodded again.

"Yeah, that's how _I _feel these days," he explained. Dino couldn't help but laugh.

"Well, at least this explains why Squalo was nice enough to come and pick you up when you called! Where _are_ you staying right now, anyway?" he asked curiously.

"Huh? But, didn't this situation explain that? I'm staying at Squalo's place." Harry answered bemusedly.

There was a loud chink, as Dino's spoon fell from his fingers and landed on the table after bouncing off his bowl.

"…You're kidding, right?"

Harry blinked at him and then turned to stare at Squalo. The younger man was in the process of pushing a bite-sized morsel of meat into his mouth, but he stopped when he noticed the inquisitive expression on Harry's face and the blank expression on Dino's. He sighed, and slowly set his fork down.

"No, he's not. I asked him to bunk at my place back at the party. He agreed, and here we are."

"Is that strange?" Harry asked, feeling a little out of depth. Squalo shook his head, though he kept his gaze locked with Dino's.

"At any rate, it's getting late. Unless you've got any more questions, can I get done with my dinner so that we can all get back to our beds? Harry's got to get to the headquarters tomorrow, while I need to get back to my own work. I've been busy these past few days, as you already knew." He ended his statement snidely, and Dino started. The blond Cavallone head sighed, but shook his head with a smile.

"I don't have any reason to say anymore, Squalo. To _anyone._ Like I said before, I'm sure you have your own reasons for doing whatever it is you are. Just, don't be surprised if it comes round to bite you in the ass later on." He murmured quietly, before picking up his spoon and cleaning it with one of the paper napkins set to the side. That done, he quickly set about finishing his gelato, mirrored by Squalo opposite him. Harry was left staring from one to the other, before sighing and getting to his own dessert. However strangely they had gone about it, the situation with Dino had been resolved comfortably. And he was relieved. If not for his sake, then at least for Squalo's. However much the man liked to say that he couldn't stand the Cavallone, it was more than a little obvious that he _did_. You just had to look out for the signs. He only wished that the situation that would arise with _his_ friends if they ever found out about this could be settled as comfortably.

It was a fool's dream.

*

Squalo started awake, hand instinctively reaching for the long dagger he had stashed away beneath the mattress on his side of the bed. The touch of cold metal to his fingers was enough to wake him up completely, though he still didn't know _why_ he had woken up in the first place.

The silence of the room was broken by the soft music playing from Harry's side of the bed. He sighed, and rolled over slightly, trying not to jostle his sleeping companion while reaching for the phone that was placed on the bedside table. Just as Squalo's fingers closed around the phone, Harry mumbled something in his sleep and drew closer to him. Squalo rolled his eyes, pulling back with the still ringing phone held in his hand. For all the guilt and uneasiness that the dark haired man showed regularly with regard to sleeping with him while awake, the wizard seemed to be unnaturally keen on drawing closer while he was asleep. Shaking his head with something that was alarmingly similar to _fondness _running through him, Squalo lifted the phone closer to his face. The name blinking on the screen made him raise an eyebrow.

"'Ron Weasley'? Who the fuck is _that_ supposed to be?"

* * *

Hello to all. Thanks for the wonderful reviews, I tried to reply to them all, but I get the feeling fanfiction didn't send me alerts for a few, so they might have slipped past me… As promised, this chapter's longer than the last.

This chapter also marks the end to the chapters that I already had typed out, so it might take a little longer to get out the next one. Thankfully, I already have the structure for the 4th chapter ready, so it shouldn't be _too_ long. One thing I'm certain of is that I won't be able to get a chapter out before the 25th, so Merry Christmas to everyone out there! In other news, I'm playing around with the ideas for an Air Gear and KHR oneshot. Any takers?

Till next time, and please **review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer **- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating - **PG-13/light PG-15 (To be on the safe side…)

**WARNINGS **- Slash, underage sexual relations, infidelity, swearing, pyromania, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack – **

_Jack's Mannequin – Mixed Tape_

_Boom Boom Satellites - Back on you Feet_

_VAST - Touched_

_The New Cities - Low Radiation_

_Takanashi Yasuhara – Chichi to Musume (Jigoku Shoujo OST)_

_Puddle of Mudd – Blurry_

_Tokio Hotel – 1000 Meere_

* * *

**IMPORTANT!!! - ****Read the Author's note at the end of the chapter, please! It's important this time.**

* * *

**Serendipity**

**Chapter 4**

Feeling a sharp stab of pain from where his foot had slammed into the doorjamb, Ronald Weasley cursed violently under his breath. Forced to hop around on a single foot until he regained his balance, he unconsciously shifted his position till he could get to the other side of the door and lean against a wall before he dropped the files piled in his arms.

"Oi, Ed! Take your god damn files, man! Bad enough you won't even pick the dratted things up yourself, do you want me to bloody well _spoon-feed_ you?!!" he yelled out. The few people still in the room barely gave him a passing glance before getting back to their own work. No one wanted to stay in too long on the weekend. If it hadn't been for the fact that he'd volunteered to pick up the files for his co-worker, he would have been long gone. Gratified to see the tall, shaggy blond haired man getting up from his desk and hurrying towards him, he immediately held out the files. The sooner they were out of his hands the better, he had places to go, family to meet, best friends to curse over…

Thumbing through the first file of the lot, Ed hummed thoughtfully.

"I think you'll be assigned to this one, Weasley. Get in touch with Potter whenever he gets back, since I think he had more experience with this organisation. You'd been working on the Cardington case along with Thomas when these people created trouble the last time."

The redhead nodded agreeably. That was all well and good, except for the fact that he had no idea where his friend had gotten to, or even when he would be back.

"I've got some new information from the long term deal that Patil's been involved with, if you want to get back to that one…?" the man ended his statement with a slightly questioning tone, but Ron shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall.

"No, I think I've got enough to deal with right now. Anyway, I think she's handling it fine. I have to get going, so see you on Monday."

Ed nodded back with an easy-going smile, though his eyes were laughing. Ron could almost guess what was going through his head. 'Meal with the family on a Friday? You poor sod.'

Turning away from the younger man, Ron scoffed mentally. Just because the other guys in the department made it their business to go out and party every Friday, it didn't mean he had to as well. To be honest, he was quite happy staying at home and enjoying a quiet meal with his girlfriend and family on a Friday night. Since he was usually too busy to do anything of the sort, a family meal was a welcome reprieve from his hectic weekly schedule. If anyone had told him that joining the Department of Mysteries' new branch would be so tiring, he would have considered joining up with the regular aurors department instead. But, _noooo, _Harry just _had_ to go and join up for something as insane as what the new department was supposed to deal with. And, it wasn't like he could let his trouble magnet of a best mate go diving headfirst into something dangerous if he wasn't there to pick up the slack, right? Tempted to bang his head against the next hard surface he could find, the blue eyed man sighed mentally. His guilt complex could get so _tiring_ sometimes, especially when green eyed wizarding saviours were concerned.

Then again, running international relations was fun. Sometimes. Especially since Harry had signed up for the more active role in the department, and he'd followed right behind him. If nothing else, he could claim to have seen more of the world than even _Bill_ had, and his older brother was a cursebreaker for _Gringotts._ Not many people could claim anything remotely similar unless they were Gringotts cursebreakers themselves.

Heading towards his own office, he offered a quick grin to the passing form of Seamus Finnegan when he walked past him. The stocky Irishman gave him a wave before continuing the conversation he had been engaged in. Slipping through the open door of his room, Ron snatched a couple files off the couch on his way and then proceeded to drop into his chair. Grabbing a quill, he signed off the last of the forms that had been pending before picking out the ones that had to be left for his missing partner. Frowning at the empty desk sitting on the opposite end of the room, he ran a hand over his face wearily. Not that he had anything against Harry disappearing on what everyone else in the department thought of as leave, he just wished sometimes that the younger man was a little more cautious. When Harry had quietly told him about his trip to Italy, and the actual story behind it, he'd been forced to wrestle with his initial reaction, which was to whack him across the top of his head. Who the hell went and became friends with mob bosses without even knowingthat they were mob bosses in the first place?! Then again, the person in question was _Harry._ If anyone was capable of something like that, it would have to be his green eyed best mate.

Shaking his head, he pulled open the desk drawer and dropped the relatively insignificant files inside, figuring he could work on them on Monday. Separating the remaining files based on how much more time had to be contributed to them, he picked out those that he had yet to deal with and stuffed them inside his bag. The last of the files were casually shoved into his filing cabinet. Slinging the bag over a shoulder, he absently cut the lights in the room and shut the door behind him, and started towards the atrium. He was already running late, any later and Hermione would have his head for dinner.

*

"_There_ you are! For Merlin's sake, Ron, do you have _any_ idea how long I was waiting for you?"

Ron laughed sheepishly, dropping his bag on their dinner table. As he'd expected, Hermione was already dressed and ready to go, leaning against the couch and tapping her foot pointedly against the floor. It was amazing that he could catch the sound even when the ground was completely carpeted. With her hair flowing around her in surprisingly soft, almost golden-brown waves and her lips pursed in that utterly adorable way, he was hard pressed to actually feel defensive or irritable.

"I was held up at work. Give me a minute to freshen up, and we can leave," he offered. She frowned, opening her mouth to say something, before huffing softly.

"Be quick about it, I already got a call from Ginny."

He stopped short at that, and shot a piercing look at her. She was worrying at her lower lip, and her brows were set in a slight, almost imperceptible frown. He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Still no news from him?"

She nodded silently, and he sighed again, before turning away and heading for the bedroom. There wasn't anything else he could say, after all.

Harry could be such a frustratingly painful person to be friends with, sometimes.

*

When they had finally managed to get themselves till the Burrow, both his mum and Ginny were puttering about, transferring the dishes from the kitchen to the table that was set outside. Fleur was busy making some finishing touches to the pie that was coming out for dessert. When she caught sight of them, her lips spread in a smile.

"Oh, Ronald! It's wonderful that you're here, now you can help your brother in trying to calm down your sister, the poor girl is beside herself with worry!" the beautiful blond witch said quickly, her voice as calm as ever, though there was a slight tinge of worry, noticeable only to those who actually knew her. And, after living as her brother-in-law for five years, Ron could safely say that he _did_ know her. Giving her a small smile, he headed out immediately, not even waiting long enough to ask her to stop using his full name. The older woman had the tendency of using his full name every once in a while, just to see what his reaction would be. Except it never sounded anywhere _near_ what his name was supposed to sound like. He rolled his eyes. After living for so long in England, or at least, living with an Englishman, Fleur's control over the English language was flawless. Her accent wasn't even noticeable anymore. The only time it came out was with the names, and she always seemed particularly gleeful while saying them, pointedly giving a more exotic twist to something that was _supposed_ to sound bland. He could only assume that she found some measure of amusement in the practice, but far be it for him to understand the mental processes of part-veela.

Catching his auburn haired sister as she hurried past him, he drew her into a spontaneous hug, making the younger woman laugh in surprise.

"Ron! When did you get here? Is Hermione inside?"

He nodded with a wide grin.

"Yeah, she's speaking to our dearest sister. Who's been telling me some interesting things about you. So had Hermione, by the way," he added, leaving Ginny blinking in bemusement, before a soft smile spread across her face, part cross and part affectionate.

"Oh, those two… they really should mind their own business some times. Fleur's been pestering Bill all morning, trying to get him to talk to me, but Bill's been nice enough to ask her to settle down. I guess she managed to get till Hermione next," she murmured. Ron snorted, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, steering her back out towards the backyard. She grumbled, but willing leant into his embrace.

"You know she worries for you. For all of us, actually." He countered. Ginny laughed.

"Of course. She's our dearest elder sister, wife to our elder brother and who's decided to take up the same pack mentality that mum has. Then again, Bill seems to have taken up the pack mentality himself, so…"

Ron sniggered right along side her, making sure to shoot a perfectly innocent look in the direction of his scarred older brother, who was standing by the table set outside and giving the two of them a positively suspicious look. Percy was setting the plates, and managed to draw Bill's attention away from them after a second or so. Ron was caught between relief and disappointment. Bill was so much _fun_ when they teased him about his wolf-ish tendencies.

"So… any news from your missing best friend?"

The sudden change in topic wrenched his attention back to his sister immediately. He was actually surprised that she had cracked so soon. After all, never let it be said that the Weasley women were a pushover. Ginny and Fleur were standing examples. He might have extended the title to Hermione as well, if hadn't been certain that she would somehow read his thoughts and declare that he was a chauvinistic pig to label anyone with the title of 'Weasley woman'. He shook his head mentally, and pulled himself back to the topic at hand. His mental conflict wasn't even related to what Ginny wanted to talk about.

"I'm afraid not, Gin. He's not been in touch at all, and he'd warned me before leaving that he didn't want to see any calls from me. Or Hermione, for that matter. He's working on something complicated, so he said that he didn't need any distractions."

"Well, he didn't tell me that." Catching sight of his disbelieving expression, her cheeks went pink.

"Oh, _fine_. He _did_ tell me that, but I tried to call anyway. He hasn't been answering _any_ of my calls. I even called Greg, but he said that Harry wasn't staying with him. It's like he's gone and disappeared off the face of the earth!" she said heatedly. Ron rolled his eyes, and squeezed her shoulders hard enough to make her stop talking.

"Ginny, calm down. You know how that idiot can get. I mean, bloody hell girl, you've been dating him since we were 16. And you've known him since _you_ were _ten_. You shouldn't be surprised when he pulls things like this every once in a while. He likes his space."

Ginny frowned, and quietly pulled herself away from his partial embrace. He didn't try to fight it, knowing that Ginny wanted some space herself. He was left staring after her as she spun on her heel and made her way back to the house, no doubt to see if there was any more help needed. He sighed, shrugging to himself before going to the table, silently helping Percy set the table. Bill seemed to have disappeared, though he figured that he had simply headed inside as well.

"Where's George?" he asked idly, once he was done placing the silverware. Percy straightened, a frown on his face. Not that he was surprised. Percy tended to frown most of the time.

"He's still at the shop, if I'm not mistaken. I think mum asked him to bring Angelina over for dinner…"

At that pronouncement, Ron couldn't help the rueful smile that stole over his face. Percy looked much the same. Both stood beside each other, wondering what it would have been like if Fred had still been around. For sure, it would have been likely that George would already be at home, while Fred would be the one convincing Angelina to come over. All things considered, they made a good pair. And, Angelina definitely cared for George himself. Bill had made sure of that. Subtly. It wouldn't do for George to figure out that they were looking out for him about as much as they looked out for Ginny. Or each other, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"Well, what are you two waiting for, boys? Sit down; we've brought everything else out."

Both brothers started at the voice of their mother, and promptly dropped into their chosen seats. Choosing to ignore the smirk on Bill's face, and the amused smile on his mother's, Ron tugged out the chair beside him and looked up at Hermione. She shook her head in exasperation, but the light flush that had appeared on her cheeks was _very_ appealing. Ron hid a smirk of his own, and turned back to Percy, asking after his work. After the end of the war, Percy had promptly left the Ministry, and had surprisingly taken up a post as a columnist for the Prophet instead. He didn't offer any reasons for the abrupt turn around, and they were forced to accept his decision, especially once it became obvious that Percy was _very_ happy with his work and life.

The meal continued as always, with him digging into the food with relish while absently listening to the conversations that were taking place around him. He was quick to notice that both Fleur and Hermione were tactfully steering the conversation well away from the topic of Harry's continued absence. Wondering for a moment if it was really necessary to baby Ginny so much, he lifted a hand in greeting to George who sidled in with Angelina right beside him, a wide grin on his face as he waved back before trying to appease their irate mother with multiple excuses for his lateness, each more unbelievable than the last. Ron sat back for a moment, basking in the pleasant normalcy of his life, at least in that moment, when he was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

Avoiding the identical frowns that had appeared on his mum's and Hermione's face, he fished out his phone, his eyes narrowing when he caught sight of the name flashing on it. Immediately pushing himself away from the table with an apologetic glance towards his mother, he lifted the phone to his ear as he strode away.

"This had better be good, Dean." He ground out. The irreverent snort he got in reply made it obvious that his friend honestly didn't give a damn about his reaction.

"Oh it is. Marcus and I managed to stumble upon the gang that you and Harry had been looking into." Ron's eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What, the slave traders?"

"Yep. The big boss said that you were better suited to dealing with them than either of us, and ordered you to get your arse down here."

Ron frowned, and shot a look over his shoulder at the table. Most of his family had gotten back to their meals, but Hermione was still sneaking worried looks at him. He sighed.

"Can't you and Marcus deal with it?" he asked hopefully. Dean gave a jeering laugh and hung up on him. Muttering a curse, he pulled the muggle contraption away from his ear and scowled down at it. Just _great_.

And he'd been looking forward to the pie, too.

*

The man sitting behind the desk had dark hair, dark skin and dark eyes lowered in a suitably impressive dark expression as he glanced between the two agents standing mutely before him. Well, as mute as they could be, with one looking exasperated and the other shooting wounded glances at him. For the thousandth time over, Kingsley honestly wondered what he'd been high on when he'd agreed to take on the post of Department Head for their little band of misfits within the Department of Mysteries. Hell, he wasn't even the _official_ head of the entire department, just of the group of people that had been dragged in from various other departments and the population as a whole to serve as frontrunners of the newest attempt at international peace and security.

"Sir, with all due respect, I don't believe I understand why _I'm_ here," Thomas said plaintively. Ron hissed, looking for the all world like a jilted alley cat that had had a bucket of ice-cold water dumped on it in the middle of winter.

Kingsley told himself, mentally, that a grown man, a department head, couldn't spontaneously start crying just because his employees could get unbearably trying and juvenile at times.

"Thomas, you know for a fact that we don't send agents into situations like this all on their own. Weasley's partner is currently on leave, which leaves him without a partner. The two of you have worked together on enough instances that you should have minimal trouble working together again." He said patiently. His red haired agent scowled.

"Kingsley, it's _Friday_. I was in the middle of dinner with my _family_. You _know_ how my mum can get if one of us leaves suddenly in the middle of a meal for anything short of the apocalypse." Ron grumbled. And, God help him, he did. He actually _did_ know how Molly Weasley could get if anyone walked away from one of her meals before they were done. But, he couldn't exactly play favourites, could he? No matter _how_ well he knew Ron otherwise, having seen him grow up during the war.

"She'll just have to suck it up this time." he said pointedly. Ron winced, but nodded all the same. Thomas still looked exasperated, but if the crease between his eyebrows was any indication, he was faintly amused as well.

"Well, get going, both of you. You know what needs to be done, and Thomas already knows where you need to be. And, for God's sake Weasley, no burning down any buildings this time, is that clear?" Kingsley snapped sharply.

Ron blinked, before his eyes widened innocently.

"Whatever are you talking about, sir?"

He tried not to smirk when he heard the telltale choking sound from Dean. Kingsley looked like he'd swallowed a lemon. Ron continued to stare down his older superior, before the man finally sighed and caved in.

"Fine. Do whatever you will. Be discreet, at the least. No whirlwind explosions, no maniacal laughter, and no fugitives running screaming to the nearest police station and begging to be put behind bars, are we clear on that?" he ground out. Dean was twitching beside him. Ron gave a wide, unassuming smile.

"Crystal, sir."

It was only after they had stepped out of Kingsley's office that Ron allowed the smirk to spread across his face. Dean was shaking his head lowly, muttering something about 'seemed so _normal_ in school' and 'closet pyromaniacs'. He snorted.

"Dean, calm down. I'm not going to burn _anything_. Let's just get this over with so I can go back home to my meal." Dean shot him a look, before rolling his eyes and continuing ahead, leaving him to follow at a brisk pace.

"That's what you said the last time, too. Look, there's a reason you and Harry are considered the most destructive team in the department, alright? His lighting pistols and your flame bangles go a long way towards fuelling those rumours."

Ron twitched.

"They're not _bangles_." He mumbled sullenly. Dean huffed in amusement.

"Sure. They're flame _bracelets_, then. They don't need to sound manly to be dangerous, mate."

"Yeah, whatever. Come on, we need to go get our equipment checked out before we can leave. Where are we headed, anyway?"

"Italy."

Dean was already far ahead before he realised that Ron had stopped midway.

*

There should be some kind of law against it, this unbearably clichéd _irony_ that his life kept going through wherever Harry was concerned. He gets called away in the middle of dinner for a mission, and of _course_ the mission would take him directly to the country his best mate had chosen to disappear in.

Forcing that thought to the back of his head, he crouched down low at the side of the still shut-and-locked backdoor to the one storey warehouse they were trying to get into. Dean was standing in front of it, fingers pressed against the keyhole and he was _so_ tempted to make some innuendo laden remark about how the other man could show so much patience for a hole that his fingers were shoved into.

Hiding a smirk, he continued to keep an eye out and a hand raised for anyone that stumbled into the dingy, grimy and moist alley that they were in. It wouldn't do for the door to finally spring open just when a civilian waltzed onto the scene. Dean's fingers suddenly shifted out of place, and Ron immediately rose from his previous position.

"Door open?"

"Yep. Watch my back, and remember-"

"Yeah, yeah. No explosions, no sudden fires." He deadpanned. Dean shot him a narrow-eyed look, but let it slide, figuring it was more important to complete the mission.

"Marcus said that there were only three the last time, but keep an eye out for more," he murmured, before lifting a hand to run his fingers lightly over the hinges. When he finally pushed the door in, it moved smoothly, as though the hinges were freshly oiled. Or new.

Ron made his way after the other man, reaching out to silently shut the door behind him. He let the energy pooling at his wrists slip down to his fingers, feeling them heat up and was rewarded with a muted ring of yellow light appearing around each of them. It wasn't very strong, but enough to let them see where they were going without crashing into something. Dean stopped short, and made a terse motion. Ron let the light go out immediately, and stood waiting until Dean had cast the night vision spell on both of them. The insides of the building abruptly stood out with the stark clarity of a black and white film, and no colour. He scowled. He never _did_ like night vision spells, the damned monochrome effect always made it harder to differentiate between spells when they were rocketing at you. Then again, they were a lot more discreet than using a light to see, so he figured he could let it slide. For now. If they were ambushed, he was going to drop the spell and flood the room with normal light.

They crept into the empty living room to get till the stairs that went up to the next level overlooking the first. The further they went, the more Ron was beginning to understand _why_ Dean was so apprehensive about letting him use his usual method of dealing with the situation. Almost the entire place was made of old wood, the kind that would burn with all the grace of an oil rig on fire. They encountered the first of the traders on the landing, and with his screech of surprise and alarm, everything went to hell in a hand basket.

Groaning inwardly, he pulled up his internal magic reserves to cut off the spell piggybacking on his eyesight, and with a flick of his right wrist, his wand slid into his grasp. Twisting out of the way of the motley crew that had scurried out of the rooms on the floor, he contemplated taking a leap down to the ground when he caught sight of the men that had appeared at the base of the staircase. Figuring there was no other option; he raised his wand towards the ceiling and snarled out the brightest lighting spell he could come up with on short notice.

There were yelps of confusion when the previously dark space was flooded with light. Seeing Dean ducking below a rusty pipe, Ron unconsciously stashed away his wand and threw his right arm out, hand open, palm and stretched out fingers pointing at the men opposite him. Dean took the opportunity to lurch into position behind him, hand reaching for the metallic canisters attached to the secondary belt fastened around his hips. Ron gave a wide, animalistic grin.

"Nighty night," he offered, before the heat at his wrist exploded out through his fingers. The torrent of flame that blasted out at the men was definitely something they hadn't expected, and more that half of them had dropped, screaming bloody murder as they were burnt alive. Or, at least, they _thought_ they were being burnt alive. He scoffed. As if Kingsley would let him get away with burning criminals before they could be brought in for questioning. There were similar screams behind him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Dean methodically manipulating the liquid metal pooling at his feet and covering almost the entire width of the corridor into spikes and spires that tore into anyone that came close enough with almost clinical precision.

The fight was as good as over before it started, and Ron was left frowning thoughtfully.

"These weren't the people we were after." He said finally. Dean looked up at him, still on the phone with Kingsley. They had rounded up the men and, with a few choice binding spells, had managed to ensure that they weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Once he was done with the call, Dean scoffed at him.

"No shit, Sherlock. Kingsley asked us to interrogate a couple of these guys before the aurors turn up to take them away. We need to get the slave traders before they skip this place."

Ron nodded thoughtfully, and turned back to the men. While they weren't speaking, or even struggling, most of them looked terrified. Almost like - Oh, shit.

"Dean… I think these guys are _muggles._" He muttered. Dean stiffened, and shot a look at them as well, before groaning.

"Jesus, just what we needed. The aurors are going to have a _field day._" He mumbled tiredly, already pulling out his phone to call Kingsley again. Ron sighed, and drew his wand in turn.

"Hurry up with the call. We've got multiple memories to riffle through and destroy before they get here."

*

When they were crashing into their fifth building of the night, the red beam of light that shot past his left cheek was enough of an indication that they'd finally found the people they were looking for. Hard-pressed not to cheer like a maniac, he dived to the floor, taking Dean down with him. Once he was sure that there were no more beams shooting at them, he got to his feet, hastily moving out of the way when the chocolate skinned man by his side pushed past him, taking the corridor at a run. Ron grunted, and took off right after him, lifting his right hand to inspect the red stone set into the slim, white metal band around his wrist. The previously blood red colour had dulled a few shades, though the intricate gold pattern inlayed in the metal was glowing as bright as ever. Down to half power, then. He sighed, and threw himself flat against the wall to dodge another spell that had shot past, this one a poisonous green. Not the toxic green of the Avada Kedavra, thankfully. If these guys weren't tossing around the unforgivables, then maybe there was still some hope for them. Wondering how many people his age could honestly differentiate between curses based on colour, he filed that thought away for an evening discussion with Hermione and Harry before diving low into the room that the corridor had opened into.

Getting behind the nearest barrier between him and the rapid spellfire taking place, in this case a mouldy looking couch, he took a peek around the side. He caught sight of the other agent behind another couch, firing off multiple curses in rounds with stunners and, interestingly, transfiguration spells. Smirking slightly, he wondered what the outcome would be if one of those managed to connect. Taking a peek down the other side, he found that there were only two perpetrators. And they were far enough apart that, if he managed to get one down, it would be enough of a distraction for Dean to take down the other. Taking a deep breath, he pressed a hand against the back of the couch for a moment, before taking off at a run.

He was noticed almost immediately, of course. Ignoring Dean's yells to 'stay behind some cover, God damn it!', he dodged a beam of light that looked unnervingly like a blood boiling curse, and bracing himself against the wall he had all but thrown himself into, he shot forward. Vaulting over the table that the man closest to him had thrown over, he dropped like a load of bricks right on top of him. His scream was loud enough to wake the dead, and was definitely enough incentive for his partner to try and take off. Of course, Dean had taken his mad dash across the room as a cue to move forward as well, and he was close enough to dive for the man trying to escape. A knee to the back of his spine, an uncomfortable crunching sound as Dean ruthlessly slammed his face into the ground, and the man stopped struggling immediately. If only the same could be said for the man he was currently straddling, hands held behind his back and his face held forcefully against the sticky carpet below them.

"Stop struggling if you don't want me to use experimental fire charms on you arse, mate." He said pleasantly. The man paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder to stare at him incredulously. Ron smiled back. The man then shot a look at Dean, who had snapped a pair of magic draining cuffs on his own target. Once he was bound and out of the way, Dean turned around to return the stare that had been burning into his back.

"He's serious. So, if you don't want to get burnt alive, I'd suggest that you stop struggling." He deadpanned.

The man stopped struggling.

*

"Yes, there were only two, sir. No, we couldn't get any information on a third, sir. It could be possible that Marcus was mistaken. Yes, we'll wait for Shore, sir. No, neither of us is injured, nor is the place burning down, sir. No, sir, Weasley didn't give me any trouble. Yes, we're taking care of the rest of it, sir; you'll see a report by tomorrow."

Ron eyed Dean with a partially disgusted expression on his face. When his fellow agent and friend had finally hung up, he screwed up his face and repeated what had been said in a falsetto.

"No, sir, the place isn't burning down. No, sir, Weasley didn't give me any trouble. No, sir-"

"Oh, can it, Ron. He asked and I had to answer." Dean grumbled, though there was the slightest hint of a smirk in the quirk of his lips. Ron rolled his eyes, and dropped into one of the many couches all but strewn across the room they were waiting in. Mouldy or not, a couch was a couch. Dean continued to stay beside the bound traders that they had managed to apprehend. Ron leant back comfortably, arm dangling off of the couch and head lolling limply against the armrest, eyes shut. Dean cleared his throat.

"You know, you _could_ go and track him down."

"I don't know what you're talking about." Ron's voice oozed nonchalance.

Dean sighed.

"Sure you don't. Look, I don't know what's going on, but you might as well drop by and say hi if nothing else. It's not like you and Hermione can hide it forever."

Ron blinked, and forced himself up to stare at the other man. Dean was leaning back against a wall, and uncomfortably looking away. It took him all of a second to put two and two together.

"Ginny's been speaking to you, has she?" he asked, mildly curious. Dean winced.

"It's not what you think, alright? I still care about her, and she calls up every once in a while to chat. She told me Harry hasn't called in some time, and that she was worried, and since we're in the area _anyway_…" he muttered. Ron snorted, and dropped back into the couch.

"I honestly don't know what she's been telling you, but Harry's _fine_. We were in the same dorm back at school, you _know_ how he can get sometimes." He said blandly.

"That's exactly why I'm telling you to go and look for him, since we're in the same country. May be he's just busy, or hasn't thought to call, but you'd might as well find out, right?" Dean said quietly. Ron huffed, and pushed himself off of the couch.

"I was planning on doing that anyway." He chanced another look at the man, who was beginning to look awkward. He sighed.

"Forget about it, mate. I'm not going to say anything. As long as you don't try anything with Gin-"

"Like hell I would! She's _happy_, Ron. She's real happy, and I care for her enough that I don't want to mess with that." His voice had begun on a loud and rough note, but by the time he was done, it had dwindled away into a soft, tired tone that almost had Ron wincing in sympathy. He eyed the other man for a second or so, before sighing, and deciding to let it go. If nothing else, Dean would feel a little more at ease.

"Right. I'll stick around until Derek and the rest of his team gets here, then you can get back and I'll go on a merry little chase for our missing boy wonder. How does that sound?" he offered. Dean looked back at him, eyes glinting with relief for an instant before the emotion was pulled back.

"That," he murmured "Sounds great."

*

A couple hours later found him sitting on a park bench under a lone street lamp, eying his phone. In the department, partners were expected to have their own methods of keeping track of each other. This applied to him and Harry as well, and both could track each other down no matter where the other was. Of course, since it was pretty big breach of privacy, they had both unquestionably agreed not to violate the privilege unless unavoidable. Which was why he was sitting here, staring at his phone and wondering whether he should just say 'fuck it' and follow the tracking bond anyway. Mumbling a curse, he dialled out his friend's number, and sat back, hoping that his call wouldn't be ignored the way Ginny and Hermione's had.

It kept ringing a couple of times, and he'd been forced to hang up and try again. Just when he was beginning to think Harry must actually be _asleep _for once, the call was picked up. He held back a sigh of relief.

"I hope you've got something to say for yourself, you big git." He snapped irately. There was silence on the other end for a moment, before someone spoke up.

"_Excuse me?"_

Ron blinked, and pulled back to stare at the phone. Yep, Harry's number. Then, wait. What? Actually, _who?_

*

Whatever the hell he'd been expecting when he picked up the damn call, it definitely hadn't been for someone to grumble at him and call him a 'big git', whatever the fuck _that_ was supposed to mean.

"_Ah, sorry about that. I thought- Anyway, is Harry there?"_

Squallo snorted contemptuously, and roughly ran a hand through his hair. Harry murmured something in his sleep, and snuggled closer.

"Of course he is, it's his fucking phone, isn't it?"

"…_Well, could you possibly _give_ the phone to him, then?"_ the voice was a little less cautious this time, and more sarcastic, and he couldn't help but feel mildly amused.

"Give me a second." He threw back, and pulled the phone away from his ear to look to at the dark haired wizard that was deep in slumber. He smirked, reached out to tap his nose.

"Oi, Harry. Harry, wake up." He murmured, tapping a little harder the second time. No response. He sighed, and lifted up the phone again.

"Look, could you just call in the morning or something? He's had a long day, and mine hasn't been all sunshine and daisies either." He grumbled. He heard a muttered curse before the mysterious weasel on the other end of the phone spoke up again.

"_Sorry about this, mate. I don't know who exactly you are, but it's urgent that I speak to Harry right now. I've been on a bit of a tight schedule, and I haven't been able to get through till today."_

Squalo rolled his eyes, and asked the guy to wait a moment. Honestly, why the fuck was he doing this, anyway? It wasn't like he owed the asshole anything. Who the fuck called at three in the morning? Other than the fucking prince, of course, but all the same. Dropping the phone onto the bedside table, he looked down at Harry again, eying him for a moment, before shrugging to himself, and shoving the still sleeping wizard into a reclining position and dropping down on top of him, hand reaching down between them.

Harry woke to the rather pleasant sensation of a tongue tangled with his own, and a warm hand stroking his cock. He groaned in surprise and amusement, and automatically followed the lips when they pulled away from him.

"_Squalo," _he moaned, trying to pull the younger man back down. Squalo was smirking slightly, one arm by his face to balance him, and the other still lower, and Harry's breath hitched, eyes slipping shut as Squalo's fingers gently squeezed down. Shit, the arsehole was actually in a playful mood. He didn't know if he should be worried or blown away. He could feel the other man's warm, moist breath right up against him, a wet heat as a tongue lightly traced the curve of his ear. He groaned loudly, almost whimpering in dismay when the other man pulled away completely.

Opening his eyes and looking up in a mixture of confusion and annoyance, he was bemused to find that Squalo was comfortably straddling him, but making no effort to go any further. When he raised an eyebrow in askance, the silveret gave him an amused look, and nodded towards the bedside table. Harry blinked, and turned his face to stare at his phone.

"And, what exactly does my phone have to do with anything?" he asked, perplexed, turning back to stare at the other man. Squalo rolled his eyes.

"You've got a call, idiot."

Harry blinked, and sighed.

"God, can't you just wake me up the _normal_ way to say that?" he grumbled. Squalo was nice enough to give him a single fingered salute in reply. He childishly stuck his tongue out at him, and reached for the phone.

"Who _is_ it, anyway?" he asked curiously, pressing the phone to his ear while his eyes sought out the wall clock, which proudly displayed '3:00 AM'. His eyebrows rose in surprise. Who the hell was calling him this late at night, or actually, this early in the morning?

"Some guy named Ron Weasley."

Harry stiffened.

*

He knew his hands were clenched on the phone. He just hoped the damn thing didn't break. Hermione would be on his case for a long time if it did. The Department of Mysteries had been working on them for way too long, trying to ensure that they functioned well even in a fully magical environment. The process had made them damned expensive. They were supposed to function _on _magic instead of that elekticity or whatever the hell the shit was called. He didn't really care right now.

"Harry?" he said carefully. He could hear someone breathing on the other side. He knew it was his best mate, it couldn't be anyone else. The grip on the phone tightened till his knuckles were white.

"_Hey, Ron…"_ the other man's voice was soft. And, he didn't need to see his expression to know that Harry was probably sitting up in bed, staring down at the sheets, or even lying straight on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Eyes normal, but pupils dilated, not really seeing anything. Skin pale. In shock.

He gritted his teeth.

"Harry, where the fuck are you right now?" he asked lowly, trying to keep his voice down. He didn't need to be yelling over the phone. That wouldn't solve anything. It definitely wouldn't solve this situation that he had on his hands right now. Because, there was no way that he had imagined the sounds he had heard over the phone. If Harry told him it was some kind of misunderstanding, then yeah, he'd accept it without another word. But, he had the feeling that Harry wasn't going to be doing anything of the sort. Which was why he wasn't going to ask. He didn't want to know. He sure as hell didn't want to hear something like this over some muggle piece of crap that felt as impersonal as fuck.

Then again, maybe he _had _been hearing things. Hell, how exactly would he be able to hear something like _that_ over the phone, anyway?

Forcing aside anything else that came up in his head, he figured the best thing to do would be to act as though he hadn't heard anything. At least until he could speak to Harry in person. Which he would be doing before he left Italy, come hell or high water. There was no way he was leaving until he got to speak to his idiot of a best mate. Kingsley could go screw himself for all he cared at the moment.

It was at the end of all this soul-searching that he realised that Harry hadn't given an answer.

"Harry, mate, you'd best bloody well answer. Where are you right now?" he repeated, feeling a little better after thinking the situation through. His temper was pretty bad, and he tended to jump the gun more often than not, but he wanted to wait this time.

He could hear Harry sigh explosively over the phone.

"… _At a friend's place. What about you?"_

He snorted, and tilted his face up to stare at the sky. He was oddly reminded of that crazy centaur, the one that kept waxing poetic about Mars.

"At the moment? In a park."

"…_Do I even want to know?" _He sniggered.

"No, not really, mate. Who was that on the line?"

"_My friend. I've been staying here the past week."_

He nodded to himself. If nothing else, Harry trusted the guy enough if he'd stuck for around that long.

"Right. I'll get back to you later. I wanted to know how you've been and stuff, but I'm feeling really tired right about now… Just finished a mission, and I decided to call on a whim."

"_Oh? What was it about?"_

"Those slave traders that we'd been trying to track down, the ones that target muggles. Dean and Marcus ended up sighting them, and I was put on the case along with Dean."

"_I'm guessing they've been taken into custody, then?" _Harry sounded as serious as ever, and his voice was just shy of vindictive. Ron smirked, finally beginning to feel more like himself. It had been way too long since he'd sat and felt like a confused little kid, and he definitely didn't like remembering it. And Harry didn't sound any different. Just the same. The only thing that actually felt different was how light Harry's voice sounded, not tired at all.

That was good.

"Yeah, they've been taken into custody. When're you done with your work?"

"_Not too long, I'm almost done. It's fun, actually, working on the Vongola Estate's wards. I'm getting a lot of practice as far as warding's concerned, that place is _huge!_" _he declared, laughing. Ron's eyebrows rose. Whoever the hell 'Squalo' was, he obviously knew both about Harry being a wizard _and_ being connected to the Vongola.

"It's good to talk to you again, mate. Get back to sleep, though. That friend of yours said that you'd had a long day."

"_He did?"_ and now, he sounded surprised. Then again, with how rude the guy had sounded over the line, Ron guessed that it was a little out of character for him to act caring in any sense.

"Yeah, he did. G'night, Harry."

"_Good night, Ron."_

He ended the call, and didn't move, simply sat there, head hung and phone clutched between his hands. He was halfway tempted to spend the night on the bench; he really didn't feel like moving. But, move he did. Forcing himself off of the wooden seat, he began to mentally go through any safe houses that were in the area. Finally remembering one that could be promising, he shook himself to clear the dazed feeling in his head before disapparating.

*

Staring at the nearly unresponsive wizard lying beneath him, Squalo was actually beginning to feel a little worried. Leaning forward, he stared straight into his eyes, and was alarmed to see that the older man's pupils were dilated. Quickly moving off of him, he snatched the phone from his fingers and dropped it back onto the bedside table, beginning to wonder why the hell he'd answered the fucking thing in the first place.

"Harry, for fuck's sake, snap out of it!" he spat, shaking him roughly. It took him a couple shakes and shoves, and finally, a slap on the cheek to get the dark haired man to actually respond. After the slap, he blinked up at him blankly before slowly getting up. Squalo groaned lowly, and dropped back onto the bed. They stayed like that, Harry sitting up and staring into the distance, and Squalo staring up at the ceiling. When Squalo finally spoke up, it was to ask if Harry was planning on sleeping any time soon.

Harry answered with the statement – "That was my fiancée's big brother. And my best friend."

Squalo blinked, before his eyebrows rose, honestly surprised. He hadn't been expecting that. At least it explained why Harry had looked so horrified. The fool had a guilt complex a mile wide.

"Calm the fuck down and go to sleep, idiot," he muttered, turning over to do just that. Harry twitched, and shot a dirty look down at him.

"Didn't you hear what I said? That was my. Best. Friend. The guy I met back when I was eleven and before I knew shit about magic, and who welcomed me into the damn Wizarding world anyway. The guy who's the youngest of six brothers and has one younger sister whom I _just so happen_ to be engaged to. If I don't freak out about this, I don't know _what_ I'm supposed to do." he snapped back. Squalo rolled his eyes, and carefully filtered out the 'youngest of six brothers' part of the comment.

"You're _supposed_ to go to sleep and think about this shit in the morning, when it's settled down and you're a little more coherent." He sighed, and reaching up to catch Harry by his bare shoulder, he tugged just enough to make the wizard fall back to bed. He struggled a bit, before muttering a curse and shifting so that he was sleeping with his head pillowed on Squalo's chest, staring up at him with an unpleasant look on his face. Squalo rolled his eyes, and flicked his forehead, making him go cross-eyed for a second.

"Did he sound pissed?" he asked absently. Harry was rubbing his forehead, a frown on his face, before stopping to look back at him.

"No. At least, not any more pissed than I might have been if _he'd_ disappeared off the face of the earth for seven days instead of me."

"And you keep declaring that he's your best friend. If he actually cares for you enough, he's going to wait and hear your side of the story before mauling you to death."

Harry winced at the mental image that created in his head, making the silveret snort amusedly.

"Anyway, how do you even know he heard anything?" the sentence was drawled out, and Harry was caught up between annoyance and an odd feeling of hilarity at the situation. Since when did Squalo give enough of a damn to actually try and talk him out of getting worried over Ron finding out about this crazy thing they had going on between them, anyway? He'd done it before with Dino, too. Tried to take the entire blame on himself, as though there was anything to blame him _for._ They were both grown men, erm… At any rate, _he_ was a grown man, and could take care of himself. But, it _did_ feel nice, having someone as prickly as Squalo showing concern in his own, obtuse way.

"Ah… because he _did_ sound angry in the beginning. I'm certain he heard something; he's got a sharp ear. He _has_ to have good senses, he grew up with a pair- er, I mean, he's grown up with a brother that used to be a prankster. A scary one. The kind that can make you cry while sitting in a ruined room covered in tar and feathers and other horrible stuff that can't be cleaned out, only worse."

Squalo's eyebrow rose. Harry resolutely looked away, trying not to remember the fact that he'd spoken about George as though he was still one of a pair of twins.

"But he didn't sound angry later," the silver haired man prompted finally. Harry pursed his lips, but nodded all the same.

"No, he didn't."

"I rest my case. Go to sleep, bitch."

Harry grunted, only marginally surprised at the rough and callused hand that ran through his hair. Squalo had already decided to ignore any further attempt at conversation, and had thrown an arm over his eyes. Figuring he had nothing better to do anyway, he closed his eyes as well, and tried to go back to sleep. He almost wished he had it in him to start another round between them; Squalo _definitely_ knew how to wake a guy up. It would have served as the best distraction possible, but his thoughts kept turning to Ron and then Ginny and he just felt sick after that. The hand in his hair tugged pointedly, and he grumbled an oath before allowing his thoughts to get pulled away by the waiting lull of sleep and the soft rhythm of Squalo's heart beating warmly in his ear.

*

Standing outside the gate leading to the tiny apartment complex that his tracking bond had led him to, Ron wondered if he was doing the right thing. Remembering the groan followed by exasperated laughter he had heard over the phone the night before, he figured that, yeah. He was definitely doing the right thing. He needed to find out for himself, for Hermione, for Harry and for Ginny's sake, too. Whether he told her anything at the end of it was a completely different matter altogether, of course.

Pushing the small, metal gate open, he stepped inside, gaze shifting from the small house set in the side of the yard near the building to the five storey apartment building itself, rising above him, and back again. Just when he was going to centre himself and follow the bond again, a diminutive, mousy brown haired man stepped out of the house. He paused for a moment, staring at him. Ron blinked, and nodded slightly, wondering if he could get any information out of this guy.

"Erm, excuse me, but is there a Harry Potter staying here?" he asked carefully. The guy blinked at him, confused. He repeated the question in Italian, but the guy shook his head, answering in English.

"No, no, that wasn't why I didn't answer. I don't know anyone by that name, may be if you described him-?"

Ron nodded immediately, and rattled off a description of his elusive best friend. He was more than a little bemused to see the poor guy going pale.

"I'm guessing that's a yes, then?" he mused wryly. The guy gave him a wide-eyed, horrified look before forcefully calming himself down and nodding.

"Yeah, he's staying at Superbi's place. I'm guessing you're here for him?"

Ron nodded agreeably. It wasn't like he had anything to hide, anyway. A strange look passed over the guy's face, before he gestured at Ron to follow him. Ron silently moved after him, going up the staircase to the side of the building.

"You know, if he's your lover or something, you really should be keeping a shorter leash on him. I was shocked to see that shark turning up here with another _guy_, especially one like him. Honestly, even if he's just your friend and in it for kicks, Superbi's really not the kind of guy you should get involved with. He's part of-" Ron had him slammed up against the wall of the second landing before he could continue. The guy all but squealed in terror, but Ron was too far gone to care.

"Look, arsehole, that's my best mate you're talking about. So shut that piehole and just take me to the right apartment, alright?" he growled, eyes narrowed dangerously. The guy might have squeaked out an affirmative, but whatever it was that he had said, he shot up the stairs like a grasshopper on steroids the moment Ron pulled back. Rolling his eyes, he followed the idiot up, ignoring the fact that what he had said was very real proof that Harry wasn't just sleeping over at this Superbi's place.

When he had reached the fifth floor, the man pointed at the last apartment on the floor before he scurried back down the stairs. Ron sighed, and wondered if he hadn't take his threatening just a little too far, before shrugging it off and walking till the apartment that Harry was staying at. Reaching up to ring the bell, he waited a beat, before pressing down on the switch anyway.

He only had to wait a moment or so before the door swung open. He blinked at the sight of the lean, silver-white haired man standing on the other side in nothing but a pair of leather pants.

"Yeah? The fuck do you want?" he asked pleasantly, leaning against the doorjamb. Ron's eyebrow twitched, though he didn't fail to notice that the man was quite conveniently blocking the entrance to his home and looking completely nonchalant while doing it. He was marginally impressed.

"Is Harry here?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. The other man's eyes narrowed.

"Nope, sorry. No one with that name lives here." He said irately, and made to shut the door. Ron's hand lashed out, holding it in place.

"Mate, I don't know who you're trying to kid- _Whoa!_" he yelped, swerving out of the when a long sword slashed straight through where his throat had been a second ago. He backed off immediately, lifting his hands in a universal 'look at me; I'm completely harmless' gesture. That didn't seem to work on Superbi, whose eyes had narrowed to angry slits.

"_He's part of-"_

Oh, Merlin's balls, out of all the people he could have chosen, why did Harry have to pick a _mafioso_ to sleep with? Well, that was if Harry was actually _sleeping_ with the guy, but he was quickly running out of reasons to convince himself otherwise.

"Squalo, who was at th- _Circe_, what the fuck do you think you're _doing?!!" _and there was his wide eyed and freaked out friend at long last, appearing at the back of the incensed swordsman.

Taking one look at the situation, he quickly dropped his hands on Superbi's shoulders and tried to get him to back off. The man didn't budge an inch. Ron could feel his rueful respect for the man's skill increasing ever so slightly, since he knew for a fact that Harry wasn't all that easy to shrug off. Superbi was now scowling, and snapping something lowly in Italian over his shoulder. Harry groaned, and clapped a hand over his eyes.

"That's because he's my best friend, you dolt!"

Superbi's scowl disappeared immediately, and his eyebrows rose. He looked back to stare at him, and Ron willingly stared back. Their stalemate continued for a second or so, Harry standing to the back and looking more than a little embarrassed, before Superbi finally lowered the sword.

"Ron Weasley?" he asked, eyebrows still raised. Ron nodded back. The guy eyed him for a bit, before snorting, and turning around to go in.

"Well, get the fuck inside, I don't think you two want to do this out in the corridor," he called out over his shoulder. Harry flinched, and looked down. Ron was left feeling a little out of his depth. When his black haired friend finally moved inside, he simply followed him, shutting the door behind himself.

Looking around the small space within, he found that he wasn't all that surprised to see that there was only a single bed in the one room apartment, having mentally resigned himself to the fact that _yes_, his best friend and to-be brother-in-law was actively involved with someone other than his sister. He was more than a little bemused to find that he was taking it so well.

Superbi was standing in the miniature kitchenette to the left side of the large room that the small alcove he was in opened in to, and was messing around with a bottle he had pulled out of one of the cabinets coming down from the ceiling. Harry had moved ahead to the bed, which was still unmade. Ron couldn't help but notice that while Superbi was only half dressed, he still looked ready to leave as soon as he dragged on a shirt. Harry, on the other hand, was still roaming around in a t-shirt and a pair of slacks. As he stood with his shoulder to the side of the arch, he watched as Harry quickly and efficiently made the bed, and rounded up the pile of clothes left at the base of the bed. He looked over his shoulder and said something about 'extra strong'. Superbi immediately put away the bottle in his hands and took out another one from another cabinet. As the other man busied himself with making some coffee and Harry quietly folded up the clothes and dropped them onto the bed, Ron was momentarily struck by just how _domestic_ the two of them looked in the same space.

Beginning to feel a little baffled, he toed off his shoes and stepped in. Superbi shot a look at him, and gestured to the chair that was pulled up beside the low wall that was doubling as a table. Ron nodded back and walked forward to drop down into the chair without another word, waiting for the two to finish. Once the clothes were taken care of and there were three mugs of coffee sitting, steaming, on the wall, Ron unabashedly grabbed one for himself, and looked from one man to the other. Harry was sitting with his legs pulled up beneath him on the bed, while Superbi was languidly leaning against the wall, one of the mugs cradled in his hand. The last one was left slowly going cold. Neither he nor Superbi said anything about it, and Ron was unsurprised to note that Superbi had noticed Harry's odd habit of waiting for the coffee to go a little cold in the morning before he drank it. At least, when it came to the first cup. The second one could be anywhere between ice cold and boiling hot. Ron was usually the one to stop him from taking the third if he was anywhere in his vicinity.

"So. Would someone mind telling me what's going on here?" he threw out easily, not bothering to beat around the bush. Harry winced again, while Superbi snorted. He didn't say anything, though. Ron might have been irritated if he hadn't observed that Superbi wasn't mocking the situation. The silveret was simply standing aside, not wanting to give any input. Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly, before speaking up.

"How about you ask questions and I answer or something, I really don't know what to say otherwise…" he muttered. Superbi remained as silent as ever, though there was a telling smirk on his face. Ron shrugged. What the hell, why not?

"Let's start with when you two met each other, since I'm pretty certain you wouldn't go and jump some random mafioso right after getting here seven days ago." He said directly. Harry choked, while Superbi snorted in laughter. Whatever Harry had been about to say was interrupted by the ringing of a phone. Harry blinked, and reached out for the sleek, black contraption that was on the bedside table, still ringing. He eyed the name flashing on it, before tossing it clean across the room at Superbi.

"It's Xanxus," he called out. Superbi winced, and took the call immediately, leaving his mug on the table and striding towards the front door. He was speaking rapidly in Italian, and paused only when Harry reached out to stop him.

"Could you ask him to tell the Ninth that I may be delayed today?" his dark haired friend said quietly. Superbi stared down at him, his conversation stalled, before he nodded once and began speaking again. He was out the door in another second, and once it had shut, he and Harry were left alone in the silence. Harry swallowed, and in the still air, it sounded more like a thousand people were swallowing at the same time. Ron sighed, and ruffled his hair.

"We could just leave this and I'll act like I never came here…?" he offered. Harry made a low, wounded sound.

"No. Just… no. Whatever else might be happening here, and whatever you might think of me after this is done and you step out of that door, you're still my best mate. And you have the right to know." He murmured. Ron smirked and leant back in the chair.

"Being rather melodramatic, aren't we." He quipped. Harry shot him a dirty look.

"And now you're sounding like Squalo." He grumbled. Ron raised an eyebrow, especially curious when he noticed the red flush spreading across the other man's cheeks. Unbidden, Harry's lips parted and he began reciting the tale of how, exactly, he had managed to get involved with Superbi, and what he'd been up to in the days he had been gone. By the end of it, Ron was hard-pressed not to laugh.

"Only you, Harry. Only you." He said amusedly. Harry still looked caught between embarrassment, guilt and relief, the latter presumably because he hadn't snapped and tried to fry him yet.

They stayed silent for a moment longer, Harry finally getting off of the bed and coming forward for his coffee. He downed it in a couple gulps and then made his way to the carafe still containing fresh, steaming coffee. Ron waited for him to finish setting up his mug, before speaking up.

"You said that you met Superbi after a job. That wouldn't happen to be that infamous case in Taiwan that you told be about some time ago, would it?" Harry choked on his mouthful of coffee.

"…Erm, well," he stammered, making Ron snort.

"Right, right. Got my answer. Well, I'll let it slide for now, mate, but I hope you know what you're doing. You're still engaged to Ginny, y'know." He said pointedly, before rising up from the chair. Harry had gone still, hands still curled around his mug while Ron circled round him and the table to drop his empty mug into the sink. He was just about getting ready to leave when Harry spoke up again.

"Why?" he asked softly, eyes staring into the depths of his coffee mug. And looking more than a little overcome. Ron regarded him seriously, before sighing and leaning against the table.

"Honestly? Because it's been way too long since I've actually seen you looking as free as you are over here."

And the poor guy looked as confused as ever, green eyes wide and sable hair mussed up around his face. He smiled slightly, and reached out to ruffle the birds' nest that his friend's hair was. Harry swatted his hand away immediately, of course, close to pouting. And the exercise almost made him laugh out loud, since he honestly couldn't remember the last time Harry acted so comfortable in his own skin.

As if on cue, Superbi stepped back inside, looking sullen.

"That man is fucking _insane,_" he ground out, pausing a beat when he noticed that Ron had gotten up. Ron looked at him, and nodded slightly. Superbi's eyebrows rose, but he nodded back. He gave his green eyed friend a rough, one armed hug before continuing on his way. Superbi glanced at Harry, still standing exactly where Ron had left him, before sighing and following him out.

"Is everything cleared up now?" he asked lowly once they were both in the corridor, door shut behind them. Ron smirked slightly, but nodded all the same.

"Yeah, to some extent. I honestly don't get what you two have going for you, Superbi, but I hope you know that Harry's taken."

Superbi rolled his eyes, and leant against the railing, staring out at a horizon that was almost completely obscured by buildings.

"Yeah, I do. He mentioned that the first time we met, actually. You don't have to be all that worried, we're not serious about this," he drawled. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Whatever. I don't want to know. As long as this doesn't get till my sister and as long as you stay away once those two actually get married, I really don't care." With that, he trudged off down the corridor with an absent wave of his hand. He was lying, though.

_("Like hell I would! She's happy, Ron. She's real happy, and I care for her enough that I don't want to mess with that.")_

He did care. He actually did. He would never tell anyone that until the situation turned more serious, though. Because Harry was his friend, the closest one he had other than Hermione, and at the end of it all, what mattered to him the most was that Harry should be happy. If he found that happiness with someone else other than Ginny, well… he really didn't have much he could say for that. Except that he would support it all the way. Even if it made Ginny unbearably and inconsolably unhappy. Because she was his kid sister.

And Harry was his best friend.

* * *

**AN: **Hey everyone! Here's the next chapter of Serendipity, which is admittedly overdue… Hopefully the length makes up for that. Now you've gotten a glimpse of Ron. He _will_ be an important character as the story progresses, so hope that you liked him!

Also, there's a bit of **IMPORTANT NEWS. **Once I'm done updating my other stories, I will be taking a break from writing for a month or so, until my final year examinations get finished. I've been thoroughly wasting my time till date, and I want to graduate with a good score. And I get the feeling that fanfiction isn't exactly conducive to this aim. Sigh… So, here's something interesting for you to chew on while I'm gone.

I'm conducting a poll with regard to the next chapter of Serendipity. The two options for the poll are:

**1.** An interlude in which we see how, exactly, Harry and Dino met for the first time.

**2.** The next chapter in chronological order. As in, what happens directly after this chapter.

Please leave me a review with a vote. Once I'm done with the major part of my work for the exams, I'll begin working on the chapter. Till next time.

**Rev****iew**! It feeds the plotting bunnies hiding beneath my bed. XD


	5. Chapter 5 Part 1

**Disclaimer **- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating - **PG-15 / M (To be on the safe side…)

**WARNINGS **- Slash, Het, infidelity, swearing, violence, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack - **

_Tiesto - 'In Session' Mix_

_ BT - 1.618_

_ Flymore – All the time I bled_

* * *

**Dedication **- This chapter is dedicated to a dear friend of mine who got married recently. Here ya go, girl. Enjoy the married life, lol! Sorry about how long it took to get this up. With hope, your husband won't get a heart attack if you get him to read this…

* * *

**Serendipity**

**Chapter 5**** (Part 1)**

The room was dim and covered in shadows, not a sliver of light entering from anywhere. Not even through the sheer curtains, which had been left drawn over the windows, while the heavier curtains had been pulled back. It was silent, save for the sound of breathing from the pair lying comfortably intertwined in the large, king-size bed. One, dark-haired, the other red.

The silence was abruptly broken by the sound of music, emanating from beneath one of the many windows throughout the room. Both figures lying in the bed awoke immediately, but neither was ready to leave the warmth quite yet. When the music stopped, they heaved a sigh of relief and burrowed deeper beneath the covers. However, it was only a temporary reprieve, for the music started up again soon after. The dark haired figure groaned lowly, and dragged a pillow over his head.

"Harry. _Harry-"_

Harry whined piteously, trying to get away from the soft, slim hand nudging at him to get out of bed. He loved Ginny, he really did, but sometimes he couldn't help but question it. Especially at times like this, when she made him get up and answer the phone when all he wanted to do was cuddle up further in the sheets. _No _woman could make her lover leave the bed to answer the phone unless she was a demoness, and _nothing_ could convince him otherwise.

"Harry, for Merlin's sake, answer the damned phone so that we can _go back to sleep_…"

He peeked out from beneath the pillow, and tried to give her a suitably pathetic look. He managed to get her eyes to crinkle in sleepy amusement, but her visage remained as unmoved as ever. Sighing under his breath, he made to get out of the bed, grudgingly easing himself out from under the covers and going as slowly as possible, in the hope that whoever it was would stop calling.

No such luck.

He blindly reached for his spectacles, and then nearly stumbled in his effort to stop. It was so easy to forget, sometimes, that he no longer required spectacles. It was especially difficult to remember in the early hours of the day, within the four walls of his home, where he felt as relaxed as he possibly could. By the time he managed to get till the window seat, the phone had stopped its incessant ringing. He picked it up anyway, figuring that if the caller had been stubborn enough to call twice, then he would definitely call a third time. As per his expectations, the phone _did_ start ringing again. He raised it to his eyelevel, so that he could comfortably squint at the screen, and his eyebrows rose in shock when he caught sight of the name flashing on it.

He was still clutching at the phone as though it were a live grenade when Ginny called out to him.

"Is anything wrong? Who's that on the line?" her voice was still fogged over with sleep, but watching her struggle amidst the tangled covers, trying to sit up, he knew she would be lucid soon. He offered her strained smile, while pressing down on the green 'receive' button.

"Ah, it's just an old friend of mine. Everything's fine, Gin, you'd better go back to sleep."

With that, he spun around to walk out of the bedroom, wondering how he should greet the man. A plain and simple 'hello', 'hey', or maybe just a nice and polite 'Why the hell are you calling me at bloody 2AM, arsehole, especially when we haven't even _spoken_ in three fucking years?'

Of course, things never really went as planned. Not when Squalo fucking Superbi was involved.

"_VOOOOOOOOOIIIIII! What the fuck took you so long, bitch?"_

And, just like that, it was as though the last three years hadn't even happened. As though it had been just yesterday that the other man had dropped him off at the airport, standing by his car and watching him leave through the airport entrance. He couldn't have held back the rueful grin from spreading across his face even if he'd tried.

"Shut your trap, Superbi. I was sleeping, like any normal, sane human being does at bloody two in the morning. What the hell do you want?"

There was a pause on the other end, during which he could almost _hear_ the smirk spread across the silveret's face, even if he couldn't see it.

"_What, a guy can't call just to say 'hi'?"_ he asked snidely, making Harry snort.

"If it's you? Not a chance in hell. Come on, Squalo, cut the crap and tell me what you want so that I can get back to my beauty sleep."

There was a harsh bark of laughter from the man, and Harry couldn't help but note that however much it felt as though no time had passed since the last time he'd spoken to Squalo, the younger man's voice had definitely roughened in the years that they hadn't seen each other. Ever since he'd met the man, both the way he spoke and handled himself had made him seem a lot older than he actually was, but now that he actually _was_ older... Well, the difference it made was striking.

"_Right, sure. I was calling because I've got some work in London, and, well..."_

Harry's brow lowered further with each word, but he kept listening with growing incredulity.

"Are you calling to ask if you can stay with me when you're in town or something?"

The answering silence on the other end of the line didn't need any clarification. The sable haired man groaned exasperatedly, raking a hand through his hair as he raised his eyes towards the ceiling.

"Squalo, you fucking _bastard_, you haven't even given me a blasted call to say _hi_ in the last three years, and you suddenly want to _drop by_ for a couple days?"

"_Is that a no, then?" _Harry scowled. The git didn't even have the grace to sound abashed. If anything, he sounded _amused. _The wizard's breath left him explosively, and he _really_ didn't know how he managed to hold back the spurt of near-hysterical laughter that was clawing at the back of his throat.

"No, no it isn't. How long are you going to be here?"

"_A few days at the most, not more. Probably three."_

Harry hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall of the corridor he was standing in. He was actually at a loss, wondering what he should say. He didn't think it would be too bad, giving the swordsman a place to stay when he was in town. All said and done, Squalo was quite interesting to be around, and it _would_ be good to see him again. Not to mention that he would be able to get to the root of all the rumours that had been floating around about the Vongola Family. He hadn't liked a majority of what was being circulated, and it would be a relief to hear the truth from an actual member of the Vongola. He hadn't even asked Dino about the rumours, inspite of running into the Cavallone Boss on more than one occasion since he'd last been in Italy.

On the other hand, though, this was _Squalo. _The one guy who'd somehow managed to coax him into a one night stand, which then proceeded to mutate into a very odd affair. One which he was certain hadn't really ended, despite his best intentions. Not when he still thought of the other man every once in a while, even after he'd returned to London. Back to home.

_Back to Ginny_.

Wondering if it was best to just avoid the landmine altogether, he started when he caught sight of Ginny stepping out of the bedroom to lean against the still partially shut door. Taking in her auburn, dishevelled hair, sleep drugged gaze and the silk sheets she'd wrapped around herself for propriety's sake, he felt like a real heel. Because he still felt warm when he looked at her, watching him with drowsy curiosity. Murmuring for Squalo to wait, he pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at her inquiringly. She shook her head, and gave him an impish smile.

"Wanted to know whom you were talking to, since you'd been yelling so much."

He gave her a slightly embarrassed look, making the smile shift to affectionate laughter.

"I couldn't help but hear what you were saying, though. Why don't you ask him to come over? You haven't seen him in a while, anyway..." she paused to eye him searchingly. Unable to meet her gaze, he looked away. The unworded 'whoever he is' tagged to the end of that sentence didn't have to be said. He knew that she was curious, since he didn't usually entertain such late calls unless he was close to the caller, but what exactly was he supposed to say? How in hell did you introduce a friend you'd gotten 'involved' with to your long-time girlfriend?

Her eyebrows seemed to rise in proportion to the length of his silence. Finally, she just sighed, and asked the one question he did _not_ want to answer, her voice deceptively mild.

"What's wrong? Why're you hesitating to call him over? It's not something to do with me being here, is it?"

He coughed uncomfortably, then flinched as he watched her swell up in righteous indignation, all traces of her sleepiness vanishing in an instant.

"_Harry James Potter-!"_

"No– _No_, Gin, that's not why I'm– _Damn it..."_ he broke off with a weary huff, and scrubbed a hand over his face. Ginny paused, her anger slowly draining away, but her current expression of sharp calculation was much worse. All of a sudden, she seemed to wilt were she stood, an odd look flickering over her face before it disappeared as fast as it had come.

"Is... Is this connected to your... job... in some way?"

Harry blinked in surprise, and then turned around to face her more comfortably, shoulder still resting against the wall and his phone dangling loosely in his right hand. He eyed her carefully blank face for a second or so, before nodding cautiously.

"Kind of. He's not directly involved, but I _did_ meet him for the first time while I'd been out on some work," he explained, feeling a little awkward despite himself. It sounded so... _innocent_ when it was worded like that. The awkwardness quickly faded away when he noticed that oddly defeated look appear on her face again. He frowned, a little confused.

"Ginny, what-"

"_Get back to the fucking phone, bitch! I haven't got all day!"_

Her face abruptly cleared, everything else being voided in favour of sheer disbelief. Harry made a pained sound, and thumped his head against the wall with a muttered curse, still able to feel his phone vibrating from the volume of that last yell. He carefully ignored the fact that Ginny was mouthing the word 'bitch' and looked _very_ disturbed, instead lifting his phone to yell back at the silveret.

"Quit wailing like a fucking banshee, Superbi! I thought I asked you to wait a moment!"

"_Well, I fucking waited. Now give me a goddamned answer, Potter!"_

He was distracted from answering when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He looked up to meet Ginny's eyes, quick to note that her features had gone back to the same non-expression they had been locked in earlier.

"It's fine, you can ask him to come. I'll shift over to the Burrow for a bit, I've been planning on doing it at some point. Mum's been having kittens about me living here with you; you know how she can get sometimes..." She gave a little self-deprecating laugh that made Harry ache to hold her close, but he didn't even try. Something about the way she was looking at him warned him to give her some space.

"Anyway, I'm getting back to bed. Try not to take too long, okay?" She leaned up to press a soft kiss to his cheek, and then she was gone before he could even get a word in edgeways, leaving behind only the sweet, strawberry scent of her hair. He stared after her sheet-clad form, wondering why her mood had deteriorated as quickly as it had. He slowly turned his attention back to his call, knowing that Squalo was still waiting on the line and no doubt simmering on the other end. He was thrown when Squalo immediately proved him wrong, the feeling eerily similar to how it felt whenever Ginny started acting strangely.

"_...Who was that?"_ the younger man's voice was surprisingly serious and level-headed, given that he'd been yelling impatiently just a moment or so ago. Harry turned again so that he could slump back against the wall. He just felt so tired and _fed-up_ suddenly, with the entire situation and with not being able to understand _why_ Ginny looked so sad sometimes. He blamed what he said next entirely on the situation. And the fact that interacting with Squalo was about as uncomplicated as it could get for him. He almost _craved_ the easy understanding he used to get from Squalo, now that the old memories had been refreshed after speaking to him. Especially after needing to deal with Ginny in one of her moods.

"You can turn up whenever you want, mate, I'll even pick you up from the damned airport."

The long break of silence made him wonder if the line had gotten cut, or if Squalo had hung up on him, but when he was just about to speak, the low sigh from the other man startled him enough to make him fall silent again.

"_Who was that?"_

He growled out something uncomplimentary, making the silveret laugh loudly. And mockingly.

"_Answer the fucking question, Harry."_

"I already did. When are you flying in?" Yes, he was acting childish, but he didn't want to go down that line of conversation. He had a feeling that Squalo wouldn't pursue the topic too far, but he didn't even want to _start _it in the first place. The derisive snort he heard over the line told him that the younger man wasn't fooled in the least.

"_Whatever, Potter, act like the stubborn little bitch you are if you really want to. What if I told you I was flying in at 9am today? Would you still be willing to pick me up?"_

Harry sputtered in shock.

"W-wait, what? Excuse me? 9am, _today? _Why the hell couldn't you have called me _earlier_, arsehole!_"_

"_Maybe because the fucking Ninth told me to get ready to leave for this mission __**five fucking minutes ago**_,_you shitty bastard. Are you still planning on picking me up or not?"_

Wincing at the very real venomous note in Squalo's voice, he quickly calculated the time frame in his head, and put it up against his regular schedule for a Saturday morning. He _did_ still have to go to work, but he didn't think Kingsley would mind if he cut it late only _once_...

"I should still be able to pick you up. Heathrow, right?"

"_Yeah, Heathrow. See you there, bitch."_

Pulling away the phone from his ear after the other man had hung up, he turned to go back into his bedroom. Ginny was already under the covers, fast asleep. Or, at least, he had assumed so until he had slid under the covers himself after dropping his phone on the bedside table. Ginny pulled closer almost immediately, slipping an arm around his waist and moulding herself to his back. His lips parted in a sigh when her lips skimmed against the back of his neck in a soft kiss.

"You were smiling."

He stiffened in surprise, then forced himself to relax and cursed his inattention.

"I was?" he asked, trying to effect surprise. She sighed, and he couldn't help but shiver at the feel of her warm breath ghosting against his skin. Feeling her warm, naked form press closer to him, he closed his eyes tightly.

He really _did _feel like a heel at times.

"He's a good friend of mine," he offered quietly, at the same time trying to put some space between himself and her warm embrace. He didn't really deserve to feel any of the loving comfort she offered him so freely. Not when he had just willingly agreed to let Squalo come and stay at his home. Ginny slowly moved away, no doubt feeling his reluctance to be held.

"Really? It's surprising that I haven't met or even heard of him yet, then." Her words were quiet, and subdued. Not even _questioning, _or irritable in the least. He really hated it when she became like this; it was so unlike her, and he couldn't even _begin_ to understand what was wrong.

Shoving the thought out of his head, he pulled the covers a little higher and took a deep breath before letting it out.

"Go to sleep, Gin. I need to sleep myself, that idiot's flight is coming in at 9am tomorrow, and I need to get ready to pick him up and then leave for work right after. Kingsley's going to skin me if I cut it too late."

Ginny was silent for a second or so. Then, she sighed and whispered a near silent 'goodnight' to his back and turned over and settled in to go to sleep herself.

As he lay there, waiting for sleep to come, he wondered for a long moment if he was doing the right thing, allowing Squalo to come and stay at his place. He let the argument fade from his thoughts before it had a chance to take root, as there was no doubt that he was in the wrong in this situation. Then again, when was he ever right when Squalo managed to get himself mixed into things?

* * *

Whatever he'd been expecting after standing at the airport entrance for fifteen minutes or so, it definitely hadn't been the long haired man that had called out to him right after stepping through the automated doors.

He might not have recognised him at all, if it weren't for the fact that he looked pretty much the same except for that one factor. Dressed in a crisp white shirt that had somehow stayed unwrinkled despite a six hour flight and a pair of low-riding leather pants, he cut quite the striking figure, and was attracting more than a small share of attention from the other people surrounding them. There was a canvas bag thrown over his shoulder, and his lips were spread in a near feral smirk as he spoke while walking towards him.

"VOOOOOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIIII! Potter!" Even the words were called out as explosively as they always had been, and Harry could have sworn that the smirk had grown in size since he had last seen it. In proportion to the hair, perhaps? Fuck, that _hair-_

"Squalo," he said blankly, unable to tear his eyes away from the long silver-white strands that seemed to be flying everywhere, just as dynamic as the rest of the swordsman. Who was watching him with pale, blue-grey eyes that were laughing, _laughing, _at him. He forcefully spun away, trying to forget the eye-catching picture the other man made, and all but stomped back to his car in the process. He knew without checking to see that the mafioso was keeping up without any trouble. He continued to stare at the road with an embarrassed scowl on his face until they had reached the highway. The younger man had stayed mute until that point, so it was no wonder that Harry jolted in his seat when he finally spoke up.

"It looks good, doesn't it?" Squalo asked with an amused smirk. Harry shot him a scathing look, learnt under the tender ministrations of his beloved old Potions Professor, making the silveret dissolve into laughter. Harry pursed his lips, trying to stop what felt disturbingly like a pout from breaking out onto his face.

"Fuck you, arsehole, it isn't that funny," he grumbled, but an involuntary grin tugged at his lips as he watched Squalo continue to laugh in his seat.

Okay, so maybe it _was_ that funny. Fuck, but it was good to see Squalo again.

* * *

By the time they had made it back to his apartment, Harry was disturbed to find that it really _had_ been all too easy to settle back into his once general routine with Squalo. The usual sniping insults had been thrown back and forth with a casual abandon that was a little unnerving, taking into consideration the fact that the hadn't even been in contact for the past three years.

Squalo paused at the entrance after Harry had spun the key in the lock and thrown the door open, waiting for the silveret to step in before him. His eyes quickly took in the basic layout of the room within, automatically noting the fastest exit routes along with the way the room looked.

"Nice place, Potter."

Harry blinked, and followed his gaze to where it was roving over his living room with casual interest. The dark blue carpet underfoot matched with the ivory walls and ash grey curtains tended to put off most of his visitors because of the cold atmosphere created, but Harry was unsurprised to find that Squalo liked it. Coupled with dark wood furniture and the glass centre and side tables, it gave the room a sharp, modern look that he'd always enjoyed, while the softness of the carpet and his black couches still retained a sense of comfort that made the house feel more like a home.

He gave a small smile, and then proceeded to shove the younger man in, simultaneously keying him into the wards and ignoring his protests at the rough treatment. He might have once questioned the wisdom of keying a known assassin into his wards, but since this was _Squalo…_

Stepping in after him, he idly pulled the door shut behind himself and dropped his car keys and phone onto a side table, flipping the switches for the lights. Squalo dropped the bag he had been carrying to the floor and stretched languidly, arms rising high above his head. Harry snorted, and tapped him on the back, but the silveret simply grunted and shied away from him, continuing to stretch out his limbs with a single-mindedness that bore testament to his dedication to his craft. It wasn't a good idea to let your muscles stiffen too much when your level of success depended upon how quickly you could move at any given moment, after all.

"The bedrooms and bathroom are down that corridor, along with a storage cabinet filled with extra towels, pillows and some other stuff, if you need any. Kitchen's right here, as you can see, and there's a balcony to that side, with a washer and dryer inside the closet outside. Make yourself at home. I need to get going, my boss' going to flay me if I get any later." He explained, gesturing towards the corridor leading off from the living room to the left, to the conjoined kitchen separated by dark wood countertops on two of three sides and lastly to the corridor directly on the right, which led to the aforementioned balcony. Squalo hummed agreeably, still concentrating on loosening his muscles.

"What, not going to offer me any coffee before you leave?"

Harry glanced at the silveret, and found him smirking slightly, not really meeting his questioning look. He snorted, moving towards the kitchen even before he began speaking.

"Fine, what the hell. Go dump your things in the guestroom, I'll get it ready."

He would have been able to feel the raised eyebrows and smirk _that_ statement garnered even from a mile away.

"_Guestroom?"_

Harry made a face, but didn't say anything. Like hell he was going to ask Squalo to keep his things in the master bedroom. If anyone happened to come over when Squalo was in town, it would open a whole new can of worms that he didn't need to deal with. Not yet. And with hope, he wouldn't need to deal with it anytime soon.

After filling up enough water into the reservoir of his coffee maker, then spooning coffee into the filter and starting it up, he set about searching for his missing jar of sugar while listening to the sound of Squalo scrounging around deeper in the apartment. When he hadn't found it even after opening up a majority of the cabinets, though, he frowned in irritation.

"Something wrong?"

He looked over his shoulder to find Squalo leaning against one of the counters separating the kitchen from the rest of the living room, drying his face with one of the napkins which had been left in the bathroom. Absently noting that the silveret had rolled up his shirt sleeves and undone a couple buttons, he turned back inwards to frown up at the cabinets, one hand drumming against the inner countertop.

"Not really. Just, I'm not able to find the sugar jar. Haven't seen it since Ron and Hermione were here last. I'd always figured that I could track it down later at some point, and it's not like a little less sugar's going to do me any harm, anyway…"

"Really? But, I'm pretty certain that looks like a sugar jar up there…"

Harry blinked, and turned back to stare at him.

"Up where?" he asked confusedly. Squalo eyed him strangely, napkin dangling forgotten from his fingers, and a slow grin started to break out on his face.

"Come back a bit, to where I'm standing."

Harry continued to stare at him, nonplussed, but did what the other man said when he made a rather impatient gesture. Backing up slightly until he was standing right in front of Squalo with the counter between them, he followed the younger man's arm to where it was pointing at the cabinet in the top right corner of the kitchen, near the stove. And, just like Squalo had said, there was the sugar jar. Except, it was on the top-most shelf, and had been pushed right to the back. To a position he would have seen only if he was looking at it from a particular angle.

Or, if he was a couple inches taller.

Harry's brows dropped in an immediate expression of distaste.

"Oh, that lousy _bastard…"_ he ground out, and Squalo burst into uncontrollable sniggers, leaning forward on the counter.

"Likes to tease you, doesn't he?" he remarked amusedly. Harry growled and flipped him off, moving forward like a man on a mission. To reclaim his fucking dignity, if he had anything to say about it. God, but he was gong to get Ron good for this one.

Bracing himself with a hand on the counter, he reached up and tried to get his hand till the jar. Feeling the tips of his fingers just skim against the glass of the jar, he groaned exasperatedly, making Squalo laugh out loud.

"I'm not even all that short, Goddamnit…" he grumbled, swiping at the jar again. 5'8'' was a pretty respectable height, if he did say so himself. He'd seen plenty of men who were at that height, and it wasn't considered short. Unless you were surrounded by bloody redheaded giants like Ron and Bill, of course…

"Careful, you might drop it," Squalo commented drolly. Harry shot him a disgusted look.

"How can I drop it if I can't even _reach_ it? Ron's shoved it pretty far back." He turned back to try one more time, wondering if he should hoist himself up on the counter to grab it if nothing else worked. He started when he saw a pale arm come into view beside him, and easily reach further into the cabinet to grab the jar.

"Not all that far back." The words were said lowly, the silveret still distinctly amused as he dropped the jar lightly onto the counter beside the coffeemaker. Harry stayed where he was, fingers still resting lightly against the top shelf of the cabinet and not moving an inch. He could feel Squalo standing right behind him, close enough that he could feel the taller man's breath against his cheek. He swallowed convulsively, fingers tightening against the shelf when he felt the other man take a step closer.

"Harry," Squalo murmured, making him sigh and lean back slightly, closing his eyes when the swordsman's arms came round to closet him against the counter. He breathed in sharply, feeling a pair of chapped lips trail up the line of his neck. He pulled his hand away from the shelf, and reached blindly over his shoulder to twist his fingers into that long, white hair and drag the other man closer. Close enough to brush their lips together, once, before Squalo growled lowly and reached up to roughly turn the wizard's face to a better angle.

Harry groaned at the harsh treatment, tugging at the hair around his fingers and moving with the younger man when he crushed their lips together. But, he just didn't have enough leverage, not enough to let him pull the silveret as close as he wanted to. He pulled away from the kiss and chuckled breathlessly when Squalo made a dissatisfied noise, trying to follow him.

"Second, just-" he turned around in the other man's hold, grinning when he saw the intense way in which the mafioso was surveying him. Squalo met his gaze for a second, pale eyes a shade darker than they usually were, before they drifted downwards. Harry leaned back slightly, and lightly ran his tongue over his lower lip. He was rewarded with Squalo's eyes narrowing, before the silveret moved in to crush their lips together again.

Their mouths moved together wetly, tongues tangling helplessly and needily, and they barely pulled back to take a breath before moving together again. Harry's left arm was thrown over Squalo's shoulders, pulling himself higher, while his right hand was fisted in the silveret's hair. Circe, but he loved the length and feel of the younger man's hair. Now that he'd seen and felt it when it was long, it would be criminal if Squalo got it cut. Squalo's hands were smoothing down the back of his black shirt, tugging it loose from where it had been tucked into his jeans and slipping underneath. He moaned, welcoming the sensation of those cool fingers moving across his overheated skin. Except-

He pulled back a bit, arm slipping down from Squalo's shoulders and ignoring his irritated hiss. He was very nearly distracted when Squalo shoved him forcefully back against the counter, tonguing the moist inner surface of his lips, but he managed to stay focused when he felt the unnaturally cold sensation of the other man's fingers against his ribs.

"Potter, what the fuck-" Squalo began, voice strained and rougher than it usually was, but he trailed away when the sable haired man reached for his left arm. He stayed painfully still, even when Harry tugged his left hand up to eye level and eyed it thoughtfully, before carefully running his fingers over it, softly kneading the wrist and smoothing over his palm and fingers. He stared back near defiantly when the older man's emerald green eyes looked back at him.

Harry sighed, and fingered the nearly imperceptible edge of the skin-toned glove that had been pulled over what was now clearly recognisable as a mechanical hand. He was unsurprised when Squalo made no move to snatch his hand away, keeping the fingers loose and plaint enough to allow him to tug the glove off.

"Guess the stories about you cutting your hand off to meet Tyr on even grounds weren't just rumours, then."

Squalo snorted, but didn't really say anything to deny it. Harry made a low sound, and shook his head.

"You're an idiot, you know that? A proud, very powerful and very gifted idiot, but an idiot all the same." He said quietly.

"Shut the fuck up. I don't need you pitying me." Squalo spat harshly, making to pull his hand back, but Harry tightened his grip, unwilling to let go just yet. He pulled the hand closer, pressing his cheek against the metallic surface and feeling Squalo go still again almost immediately.

"Can you feel anything?" he asked, a little curious. The workmanship was excellent; it was near indistinguishable from an actual hand. It was unsurprising that he hadn't seen the difference until the fingers had been on his skin. Squalo stared at him wordlessly, eyes unreadable, but a small smirk pulled at his lips.

"Nope, it's just metal and some other shit. I can't even move it all that much, it's just been made for me to fasten my sword directly and well enough to fool anyone who hasn't seen or heard of me before. I don't really care, just so long as my swordsmanship isn't affected." He said cryptically. Harry laughed, tilting his head and inquisitively intertwining his fingers with the metallic ones.

"Just typical. Bloodthirsty shark." He teased gently, making the younger man's smirk widen, his pale eyes glinting with good humour.

"Most definitely," he drawled, leaning closer till his lips were barely a hair's breadth away from Harry's own, when they were interrupted by the sound of Harry's phone. The wizard blinked, and then paled.

"Oh _shi- _Squalo, I need to leave, get _out of the fucking way-"_ Squalo quickly moved aside, watching with raised eyebrows as Harry flew out of the kitchen. The older man was roughly running a hand over his hair to flatten it marginally while grabbing his phone from the side table, finally pulling it to his ear after making a face at the name on the screen. Listening to the ensuing conversation with the beginnings of mirth bubbling through him, the silveret leant back with a broad grin as Harry spewed out a bunch of excuses and cut the call, before trying to re-tuck and straighten out his rumpled clothing. When Harry caught sight of the thoroughly entertained expression on his face, he gave him an accusing look.

"This is all _your_ fault. If you hadn't distracted me-"

"_Distracted_ you? But, I just asked you for a cup of coffee," he said innocently, making the older man snort contemptuously before whirling round and storming out of the apartment without another word. Harry was followed by the sound of the mafioso's laughter all the way to the elevator at the end of the corridor, inspite of having slammed the door shut behind himself.

* * *

When he'd finally managed to make it to his office room, after meeting up with Kingsley as he'd been ordered to, his mood was as rotten as it could be. So, it was no surprise that the sight of Ron sitting back on the couch and waiting patiently for him only soured his mood further.

"Look, I was already read the riot act by Kingsley. I don't need to hear it from you too." He growled, dropping himself roughly into his seat after pulling it forcefully away from the desk and dumping the backpack he'd picked up from the car beside himself. Ron stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"Pissed off much?" he asked rhetorically. Harry shot him a cold look, making him crack a wan smile in turn.

"Fine, whatever. Anyway, I really don't give a damn about you turning up late, I'm sure you had your reasons. I wanted to talk about something else."

Harry's eyes narrowed, wondering what he was talking about, when the expectant look Ron was shooting at him hit him with the force of a sledgehammer.

_("…__you can ask him to come. I'll shift over to the Burrow for a bit, I've been planning on doing it at some point…")_

_Shit._

He made a face, and quickly dug through some of the leftover papers on his desk, searching for something to occupy himself with, and somehow manage keep himself too busy to meet Ron's all-too-knowing gaze.

God, but he missed the days when Ron had been the unassuming best mate and Hermione had been the know-it-all. It had been _easier_ to avoid her when she got into one of her 'I-_will_-get-to-the-bottom-of-this' moods. Ron was worse.

A _lot_ worse.

"So, what happened, anyway?" The redhead asked casually, tilting his head slightly. Harry continued to avoid his gaze, knowing for a fact that Ron was a master at weaselling confessions out of him if given enough of a chance. Pun very much intended.

Then again, so was Hermione. He guessed it came with the 'best mate' territory. Best friends should come with warning labels, as far as he was concerned. It would have made his life a lot easier to deal with. Sadly, even if he had known how much grief his friendship with the two would give him at times, he'd still never trade them for anything in the world.

That likely came part and parcel with the 'best mate' territory, too.

"…I thought you said that you didn't give a damn about why I came in late?" he murmured duplicitously, finally managing to track down a file that looked promising. He kept his eyes unerringly focused on the case details within, pointedly not looking up when Ron sighed.

"That wasn't what I meant, and you know it. Seriously, Harry. Is everything okay at home?"

The sable haired man tried not to cringe at the uncharacteristically patient undertone to the older man's words. A patient Ron was _never_ a good sign.

"Yes, of course it is. What could be wrong?"

He actually _did_ cringe this time, in the silence following his words. They'd had a fake, up-beat quality to them that had spoken a lot more than what had actually been said. He almost wished he hadn't said them in the first place, because he just _knew_ that Ron wasn't going to let it go now.

When Ron slowly rose to his feet, Harry was momentarily struck by how much like a lazy jungle cat the other man had looked, but he quickly shook away the image. Ron was frightening enough when his pyromaniacal moniker was taken into consideration, he didn't need to bring any big cat similes into the equation.

Sure, he was currently ignoring the fact that it would be difficult to forget the comparison, now that his mind had picked up on it once.

"Harry, mum called me earlier to say that Ginny had suddenly decided to come back home for a few days. Mum was ecstatic, of course, but it isn't like Ginny to decide to come back home on a whim, especially not when she's been so busy. And, with the Quidditch season coming closer, she's even less likely to come home. Not when she might get injured during practice and make mum worried enough to hound her to give up her position with the Harpies'. What the hell happened?"

"Nothing happened, Ron. She just decided to go back home for a while, since Molly had been worried about her staying at my place all the time. You're just being paranoid." The words were succinct. But, they weren't enough to make his best mate back off, not if the pensive expression on his face was anything to go by. Ron's deep, nearly jewel blue eyes were narrowed and watching him sharply. Harry did his level best to keep _his_ eyes well away from the other man's gaze.

"…Mum also said that Ginny had mentioned you were having a friend over for a few days."

Harry flinched, and then cursed himself, knowing that his instinctive reaction had given Ron a near solid foundation to work with.

"Harry. Talk to me before I start clutching at straws. That won't be pretty, and we _both _know it." This time, there was no denying the finality of his words. Harry bit his lip, fingers riffling blindly through the papers of the folder still in his hands, before sighing and slapping it shut.

"Ginny and I are _fine_, Ron. Just the usual relationship hitches that crop up. They _have_ to, at some point, it's just plain unusual if they don't. Especially in one as long as what Gin and I have going on."

But the searching look still hadn't left those familiar jewel blue eyes, and Harry wished for once that the other man didn't know him so well.

"…Okay, so this one thing's been going on for longer than the others have, but I'm sure it'll go away sooner than later. Ginny's just been feeling tired, and the workload's been getting her down…"

"Harry, stop. Ginny can make her own excuses; I don't need to hear you making them for her." Ron said the words quietly, and Harry sagged back in his chair, feeling about as drained as he had felt in the morning while talking to Squalo at 2am.

There was no denying that he and Ginny both loved each other, of course. Some would say that they loved each other _too_ much, which was where the trouble started. A love that strong could smother a person if they weren't careful. Ginny had given him a lot more space in the early days, back when they were still teenagers and exulting at the end of the war.

But, as the years had gone by and their relationship had deepened, both of them had started to loose their tempers easily. Only for the little things, easily sorted out and forgotten and they would get back to their usual relationship bliss without any other hang-ups, but the last straw had been the one time when he had staggered into his apartment, still covered in blood and thoroughly exhausted from a cross-country collaborative mission he'd been on to track down a bunch of self-taught dark magic users that had been causing havoc in Delhi. The Indian and American Ministries had been forced to call in some extra aid from the British Ministry when things had gotten out of hand, and the resulting mess had stayed in the headlines for months afterward.

None of this had been of consequence right after the mission, though. Only Ginny's reaction to seeing the state he was in. He didn't think he would _ever_ be able to forget the horror and panic on her face, or the innate fear in her eyes that the blood was _his_. That he'd finally managed to fall headfirst into something that hadn't let him walk away in one piece.

He'd quickly consoled her, but things had never been the same again. Oh, their relationship was still going well, and they were very happy with one another, but whenever his work was brought up, the light seemed to drain out of Ginny's eyes. She was always quick to assure him that she didn't have anything against what he did, and he didn't think it was a lie, but it was undeniable that Ginny hadn't completely been able to get over the grisly picture he'd made that day.

He _had_ tried to discuss it, but his auburn haired girlfriend always changed the topic, never really willing to spend too long talking about his work. She was very enthusiastic about him dealing with various foreign ministries and protecting the 'world peace', no doubt. It was the practical side of things, the work he did in the field, that made her back off. He couldn't understand _why_, though. She never had any trouble with Ron, or with any of their friends who were in the same line as him…

"Harry."

He started, and looked up to find Ron crouched down in front of him, deep blue eyes filled with concern. He gave a nervous laugh, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Sorry about that, guess I got caught up in my thoughts…"

The redhead didn't look very convinced, but nodded anyway. He gave a low sigh, and sat down completely, leaning back to eye his green eyed friend, who still looked unbearably tired below that pleasant façade of his.

"She's just worried about you, Har'. Nothing else." He offered quietly, and watched as a pained look dart over Harry's face before it was wrenched back inside. Both men remained silent, one worried for his friend, the other mentally worn out over the situation he was in. Finally, Harry sighed, and leant back in his seat.

"…It's Squalo."

Ron blinked, and looked back up, startled.

"Say what?"

The sable haired man cracked an uneasy grin, wondering if he was signing his death warrant by telling Ron about Squalo coming over. He mentally shoved away the thought of not telling the other man, knowing that it was too late to hide it. And, anyway, even if he didn't say anything, the Weasley was bound to just follow him around till he caved in. That, or simply follow him back home to investigate.

"You were asking who was coming over, right? It's Squalo. He gave me a call today morning and asked if I could give him a place to stay when he was in town."

Ron looked like he didn't know whether to be disturbed or disapproving. Harry was relieved that 'just-plain-mad' wasn't one of the options.

"This _is_ Squalo Superbi we're talking about, right? The guy that you _haven't been in touch with?"_

He nodded.

"The one who's involved with, well…" Ron didn't complete the sentence, since neither wizard was certain that their office wasn't monitored, but the expression on his face was demanding to know if Harry had gone round the bend. Harry bit back a snicker.

"The very same."

Ron's left eye twitched, and he made an aborted motion to possibly reach up and throttle him, but he settled back with a groan.

"Harry, I don't even _want_ to go into how stupid this is. There are too many bloody reasons as to why he shouldn't be staying at your place, and I'm sure you're already aware of most of them."

Harry nodded mutely, eyes lowered to the ground, but didn't offer any consolation. It was a bad idea to talk about his relationship with Squalo in the Ministry, anyway. Even the platonic side of it, which took into consideration the fact that he'd had 'dealings' with the Vongola in the past. _Definitely _not something that an agent on the straight and narrow would be involved in. It had been a bad idea to even mention the mafioso's full name within their office, even if it was relatively secure. Squalo's name had become rather infamous in certain circles over the course of the last three years, what with him single-handedly defeating the Sword Emperor. His notoriety only increased when concrete information about the Varia started becoming available to various ministries.

The worldwide magical community's fascination with Italy was somewhat unsurprising, since the country was considered something of a magical no man's land. History hadn't recorded any actively functioning ministry in the country at any point of time, nor was there a functioning school to accept children with the aptitude for magic. In fact, there hadn't even been any reports of children with magic.

However, once efforts for worldwide peace and better control over 'unsavoury elements' started being made, the topic of the apparent magical black hole in Italy had been brought up for discussion on more than one occasion. Several conspiracy theories about Italy simply 'hiding' their use of magic had been considered briefly, but were discarded just as quickly. When forays into Italy became more commonplace, often in situations where agents or taskforces were sent in to apprehend magical criminals lying low in the country, it swiftly became apparent that magic was still very much present there. Possibly in a greater concentration than in other places. It was simply being 'channelized' differently.

And that was the point at which departments involved with maintaining international peace started taking interest in the mafia working within Italy, and the wondrous feats they were capable of.

Ron muttered a curse, and pushed himself to his feet, making his way towards his desk.

"I'm coming home with you, later. You'd better not say no."

Harry nodded again, this time in acquiescence, before opening up the folder still lying in his hands. Any protests against what his bull-headed friend chose to do were futile, after all. It was better to just concentrate on his work, and try not to contemplate what was going to happen once he got back home.

* * *

Ron's eyebrows rose all the way to his hairline when the door swung open. The sight of Superbi, with his hair pulled back into a loose tail, messing about in the kitchen with quiet instrumental music playing in the background hadn't been something he'd come prepared for. The length of the hair was definitely unexpected, though it _did_ suit the man. When he noticed Harry still standing beside him, just as disarmed by the sight, he rolled his eyes and shoved the shorter man in.

Harry stumbled inside, calling out a strangled greeting to the silveret, who glanced over his shoulder with an irritable grunt for the sudden intrusion. Ron offered a nod in greeting when Superbi caught sight of him before stepping in after Harry, kicking his shoes off and then nudging them towards where Harry had kept a conveniently placed shoe cabinet.

"Harry. Weasley, what a pleasant surprise." The words were drawled out with a bored nonchalance, which made it obvious that the man wasn't surprised in the least. Ron bared his teeth in the parody of a friendly grin, heading forward to seat himself in one of the bar chairs set out beside the dark wood counters bordering the kitchenette. Harry followed close behind, dropping his phone and keys off on the counter before surreptiously sneaking inside. Ron watched with growing amusement as Squalo easily fended off the sable haired man's attempts to glance around him, switching off the electric stove in the same movement.

"Superbi, what the bloody hell are you doing in London?"

"Out of sight, out of mind, Weasley. You're better off not knowing," Squalo answered cryptically, finally giving an exasperated sigh and lifting Harry clean off of his feet. Ron choked on his laughter, while Harry squawked at the manhandling, especially since Squalo wasted no time in throwing him out of the kitchen.

"Oi! What the fuck, arsehole, I just wanted to know what you were making!" Harry snapped, looking rather wounded as he shoved himself off of the carpet. Ron quickly sobered his expression when the green eyed man threw himself into the chair beside him, a scowl on his face. Squalo masterfully ignored the statement while manoeuvring the dish on the stove to the side. Watching as he then removed another dish from the microwave and brought both to the counter, followed by three plates and the necessary utensils, Ron had to admit that he was a little surprised. He hadn't really pictured the mafioso to be someone interested in _cooking_, of all things. Yes, he'd made very good coffee back in Italy, but that was a far cry from making a whole meal and offering it to other people right after they got back from work.

And he'd been so _certain _that _Harry_ was the domestic one out of the two of them.

It was almost as if Squalo could hear the thoughts going through his head, since the silveret shot a particularly violent sneer at him, before dragging a chair round to the opposite side of the counter and sitting down. They ate in awkward silence for a few minutes, when Harry suddenly sat up with the air of remembering something.

"Ron. I found my sugar jar today morning."

Squalo stiffened abruptly, a sliver of sharp amusement glinting in his eyes as he leant forward, obviously interested in listening to his response. Ron shot him a wary look and then turned back to Harry, who was beginning to look annoyed.

"Erm… Congratulations?" the redhead offered, a little confused. Harry twitched, a livid expression appearing on his face.

"Ron, I found my sugar jar today. The same one that had gone missing a month ago. The same one that _you hid at the back of the cabinet above the stove_."

Ron blinked, as sudden understanding surged through him.

"Oh, _that_ sugar jar. Wait, you didn't find it till now?" he asked incredulously. Predictably, the sable haired man flared up like a bone dry forest in the middle of a lightning storm. The ensuing fireworks had Ron nearly ducking for cover to wait it out, until Harry finally sagged against the counter, red in the face from all the yelling. Ron, ironically, just felt like laughing. It was so much _fun_ riling Harry up like this sometimes. Ever since they had grown older, the younger man had developed a tendency of reining in his emotions unless there was an actual need to show them. And so, Ron had made it his personal mission to make him loosen up every once in a while, just so he didn't go and explode from holding himself back all the time.

Then again, Harry had never really tried to hold himself back when they were out of the country, or among friends. Perhaps his high strung nature was a side effect of the kind of expectations people had of him. Even after Harry had gotten into a department that ensured protection against unnecessary fanfare made by the media about every little thing in his life, the general populace of magical Britain still had the tendency to look upon him as their very own personal shining ray of light, the Saviour of Them All. Ron personally found it disgusting, as did Hermione and anyone else who actually _knew_ Harry.

As he watched the interaction between Squalo and Harry, the silveret mockingly teasing him about exploding over a _sugar jar_, of all things, and Harry spitting back a defensive response, he couldn't help but feel that the man was actually _good_ for Harry, in a strange way. Superbi had never known anything about the wizarding world or about magic when he and Harry had first met. And, even after finding out about the existence of magic, he was positively _irreverent _about it, keeping far more stock in his own capabilities. It was unlikely that he would _ever_ give any importance to the wizarding world and its traditional views about prophecy and destiny, and was far more likely to scoff at the very thought. Taking that into consideration, Ron figured that it was no wonder that Harry seemed so relaxed around the other man.

Later, after they were done with their (surprisingly palatable) meal, Ron tried to broach the subject of Squalo's presence in London another time.

The swordsman sighed, and sagged back in the couch that he was now seated in. Ron was quick to note that Harry was studiously ignoring the direction in which the conversation was going, instead focusing his attention on the random hack-and-slash movie that was playing on screen. Glancing up at the large flat-screen television mounted on the wall, Ron uninterestedly took in the unrealistically artistic sprays of blood painting the screen and its various characters red before looking back at Squalo expectantly.

The swordsman looked rather irate.

"Look, Weasley, I wasn't joking when you asked earlier. You could at least go for plausible deniability in case this gets called up in your department," he said warningly. Ron nodded back, still looking expectant. As if something like that would be enough to make him back off. Squalo grunted something uncomplimentary under his breath, then swivelled in position so as to face Ron head on.

"The Ninth asked the Varia to come and take out a bunch of drug runners operating out of this city. They used to have distant ties to the Vongola, but they screwed something up and earned the ire of the Ninth."

Ron whistled appreciatively.

"So, you're actually helping us out?" the redheaded agent asked, smirking amusedly. Squalo rolled his eyes, and made to say something biting, when he happened to catch sight of the wall clock. He stared at it wordlessly for a beat, before growling and violently pushing himself to his feet. Ron raised an eyebrow, and shot a look at the clock. It was about 5pm.

"Something wrong?" he asked, bemused. The silveret waved away the query, stretching limberly and then briskly headed toward the bedrooms. Harry gave a soft 'oh' of understanding, so Ron looked at him for a better answer. Harry shrugged when he noticed the questioning look.

"Guess the work he came here for was scheduled for today."

Ron snorted, and wordlessly leant back into the couch. Scheduled work? That made it sound like the mafioso was in town for a business meeting, the _normal_ kind, and not for a bloody _assassination._ Harry shot him an exasperated look.

"Ron, I already _said_ that he was here on work. He admitted that much and more to you _himself-_"

He broke off with an odd choking sound that had Ron turning back to stare as Squalo walked back into the room, already having changed into something more appropriate for his mission. His hair was let down, and he was dressed almost fully in leather except for his shirt, which was quickly hidden from view when he shrugged on the mid-thigh length leather overcoat. When he turned away to fasten his sword to his left hand, Ron immediately noted the symbol of the Varia marked clearly on his shoulder. When he'd turned back, Ron saw that the sword had been tightly bound to his left hand with white tapes, firmly holding it in place above the black leather glove.

Harry quickly stood up to follow him towards the door, asking him something in an undertone. Ron didn't quite catch the silveret's reply, but he _did _sit up to call out to him, suddenly remembering something that he'd wanted to say. Squalo paused in the middle of tugging on his boots, looking back at him in askance. Ron shrugged, a darkly amused twinkle appearing in his jewel blue eyes.

"Just wanted to say congratulations before you left."

That earned him a confused look. He grinned, and nodded pointedly at the sword. To be precise, at the hand the sword was bound _to_. An understanding look passed over Squalo's face, and he gave a self-satisfied smirk before continuing with his task. Once he was done, he rose fluidly to his feet, just about ready to leave, when Harry abruptly reached up to twine his fingers around the younger man's hair and tug him down. Ron couldn't help but continue to watch, a little amused as Squalo stopped short at the sudden press of lips against his. The silveret reached up to tilt Harry's face into a better angle with his right hand, keeping the contact for a few more seconds before pulling away slowly. He murmured something quietly, then looked up and nodded sharply at Ron before roughly pulling the door open and stepping out. He was gone even before Harry closed the door behind him.

"Worried, are you?" Ron asked, smiling when Harry stiffened. He'd had a feeling that his best mate had forgotten about his presence for a second or so.

"No, not really." Harry answered, walking back towards the couches. Ron eyed him suspiciously, disbelieving, but Harry gave him a small smile.

"Seriously, Ron. I'm not worried. He can take care of himself."

"That's a new one. Perpetual worrywart that you are, I was certain that you would be." The redhead countered. Harry smirked, but didn't offer any further explanation and instead started looking for the remote. He was beginning to tire of the CG rendered slashing scenes taking place in the movie that was supposedly coming to its climax.

He'd seen better, after all.

* * *

Squalo was starting to wonder if he should have taken the pains to fly till London for this job. Orders from the Ninth aside, he could just as easily have delegated it to someone else. In fact, he was certain that the fucking prince would have jumped at the chance to carve up a bunch of idiots who'd dared to go against the Vongola Famiglia. For that matter, he would have jumped at the chance to carve up _anyone_ at _anytime, _but it was the thought that counted, right?

One thing was for certain, though, and that was that taking down the drug runners was doing wonders for his ego. It was just _too_ easy.

The screams of pain and fear filling the boarded up ground floor of the abandoned building he'd found them in were like music to his ears. Laughing wildly, he spun out of the way when one of the people he'd been sent after tried to lash out at him with a dagger, and then slashed the man through the torso for his troubles.

There hadn't been a very large group in the building to begin with, and the men hidden away in the board room located in the centre of the ground floor had been deep in conversation when he had first walked in. There had been no reason to hide his entry, not when he'd already silently ripped through the men standing guard outside. To the remaining drug runners sitting cloistered in their meeting room, he must have looked like an apparition straight from hell when he'd stepped in, an unhinged grin on his face and blood red splatters all over him. One of the men outside had met a particularly messy end, and the ruddy red drops dripping down from the long strands of his hair and the cold length of his sword only added to the horrific sight he made. There had been immediate pandemonium, the leader of the runners screaming for the rest of the men to protect him.

Which had eventually led to where he was right now, dodging out of the way of bullets being shot at him haphazardly. The fools were so shaken up that they weren't even paying attention to whether they were aiming at friend or foe. He honestly didn't give a damn; they were taking care of half the fucking job for him. Dropping low to the floor to dodge a kick from someone who'd decided to take him on at close range, he viciously slammed his foot into his attacker's other leg. The man dropped with a screech, his leg collapsing beneath him and Squalo gave a feral grin while ripping his sword through the man's throat, rolling back to get away from both the resulting spray of blood from his jugular as well as a new rain of bullets. Hmm. Automatic fire, so submachine guns, or may be an automatic pistol? Anything bigger would have been difficult to keep a hold of in the room and still hide sufficiently well enough to stay out of his sight. No matter, as long as he could stay ahead of the firing and cut down whoever the hell had managed to get a hold of them.

The silveret nearly resembled a blood drenched spectre, his vermillion soused hair whipping behind him like a bloody banner as he whirled through the men trying to shoot him down and left a trail of dead or dying bodies behind him. He was mostly aiming for the gunmen, while trying to figure out where the fuck their shitty leader had gotten to. There were some men suddenly popping up and trying to take him down with something other than bullets every once in a while among the rest of the mob, foolishly believing that they would have more of a chance if they tried to fight him on loosely similar grounds. Stupid fucking _trash_. As if they'd ever had a chance. There was no way _any_ of them would be able to take him down at close quarters. Not enough experience, and they just didn't have enough fucking guts to do it.

The ground was starting to get slippery, the blood, sweat and other shit mucking up the concrete flooring increasing as more men kept falling. He'd almost skidded straight into a wall when he'd dodged some idiot who'd tried to come after him with a sword. A fucking _sword, _and the guy had the balls to wave it around like a goddamned _club._ He almost felt insulted. The next time he ended up skidding, he flipped himself to slam feet first into another wall, and catapulted himself straight at the fool. The dumb bastard's eyes looked like there were going to pop out of his head, and Squalo felt vindicated once he'd ripped him in half.

The number of people in the room was finally starting to thin down, and as expected, not all of them had gone down from his slashes. The man with the submachine gun had stopped firing, either having been gunned down himself or having figured out that he was doing more harm that good. Catching sight of movement in a darkened corner of the room, he roughly stabbed his current slow-footed opponent through the chest and dived out of the way, just in time to miss the sudden barrage of bullets that had erupted from the corner.

He'd found the man with the submachine gun, then.

He kept himself moving, trying to make a harder target. It was obvious that the man firing at him was the last one left; there was no movement from anywhere else in the room. When the firing suddenly stopped, he twisted round and dashed at the man who'd been foolish enough to remain in plain sight while hurriedly trying to change the magazine. Squalo didn't even hesitate, snarling as he slammed his sword straight through the man's gut, with enough force to ram his sword into the wall behind. The guy choked and then screamed in agony, his eyes tearing up reflexively. Squalo sneered, yanking his sword out and letting him fall to his knees, still sobbing, cursing and choking on his breath, clutching at his abdomen. Squalo rolled his eyes, and shoved his sword directly between the man's eyes. The pathetic sobs stopped immediately, and the man fell over in a dead slump once the silveret stepped back.

Squalo took a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to see if he could hear any tell-tale whimpers. If he wasn't mistaken, the only one left was the –

The world abruptly erupted in shades of agonising white, and Squalo barely managed to hold back a pained howl as something slammed into the back of his head. As it was, he fell to the floor, breath leaving his lungs in a ragged gasp, disoriented and not able to see straight. He could hazily make out that there was someone standing behind him, clutching something long in their hands.

A pipe. He'd gotten whacked around the head with a fucking _pipe._

The man lifted the pipe with a crazed, desperate scream, and it definitely would have hit him before he could get out of the way. If he'd been anyone else. He snarled back at the man, and let his left hand lash out.

Backwards.

The pipe fell from nerveless fingers as Squalo dragged the sword straight through the bastard while getting up, then wrenched it out sideways. And got badly drenched in blood in the process. Not that it made too much of a difference; he was already covered in enough to look like a monster from someone's gory nightmares. Even as he stumbled backwards, away from the carcass he'd left behind on the blood soaked floor, the room spun round and round his head. He cursed violently, lifting a hand to his temple and wishing that it would fucking _stop._

The leader. He had to find the leader. He'd finished off everyone else. If he could just find the head of these shitty drug runners, he could rip him apart and get back to the apartment and grab some miraculous all-cure from Potter to get rid of his fucked up concussion.

Now where the hell could you find a cowardly leader when he was trying to hide?

The teeth he bared in a savage grin shone an unnatural white on his crimson stained face as he walkedstumbled in an uneven route, wondering where to start.

"Voooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiii, bossman! Come out, come out wherever you are. I was going to rip you limb from limb, but if you come out quickly and don't make a fuss, I might change my mind," he called out, his voice echoing strangely in the room empty save for human corpses. He headed out of the board room, since he was certain that there was no one left alive in there. No doubt the pipe-wielding bitch had been an oversight, but his senses were in overdrive now and he didn't think anything else would be able to sneak up on him.

Ironically, he was proven wrong soon after. He felt a sharp stab of pain blossom in his left thigh, making him stumble backwards instinctively. Still reeling from the pipe wound, so he wasn't able to move fast enough to completely avoid the second bullet even when he _did_ see it coming. The next one clipped him in his upper left abdomen, but he'd finally managed to get a clear view of his target. He shot forward without another thought, and violently lopped off the man's head with a snarl before he could raise his gun high enough to shoot again. The head thudded to the floor with a wet sound, and the body grotesquely stayed in position for a second longer before it collapsed backwards, the gun slipping from the corpse's fingers. Thankfully, he was able to snatch it out of the air before it could fall to the ground and go off again. Still holding onto the gun, he lurched forward a couple steps till he was in front of the wall the leader's body had collapsed against. Turning around, he leant back against it and slowly sank to the floor.

"Shit," he muttered, clicking the gun's safety back in place and dropping it before raising a hand still dripping with blood and covering his eyes with it anyway. The whole damned world was still spinning, he was fucking _aching _and he couldn't even walk in a damned straight line, to boot. How the hell was he going to get out of here?

"Looks like you got off easy anyway, asshole." He grumbled at the leader, tilting his face upwards and squinting at the blackened ceiling. There was no answer, of course. Sighing, he braced an arm against the wall and heaved himself up. Time to leave.

There had better be a restroom somewhere in this dump, there was no way he could get back on the streets without getting at least _some _of the blood off of himself.

* * *

Hi everyone. Really sorry about how long it took to get this out. I _did _have my reasons, as mentioned on my author's page...

As I'm sure you've all noticed from the title of the chapter, this is only the first half since I thought it was getting to be too huge on the whole. The second half should be posted in around two weeks or so, since it still needs to be edited.

Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed; I was utterly blown away by your comments! They played a major part in motivating me to get back to writing once my examinations finished. It was interesting to see how many people wanted to know what happens next in the plot instead of an interlude - hope you all liked what I came up with.

Until next time. And, please **review!**


	6. Chapter 5 Part 2

**Disclaimer**- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating -** M

**WARNINGS**- Slash, infidelity, sex, swearing, violence, dark-ish themes. You have been warned.

**Timeline -**The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**Soundtrack - **Not a real soundtrack this time, just an eclectic mix of stuff that sounded good in the background while I was writing.

_Placebo - __Every you every me (Single Mix)_

_Shikao Suga – 19sai_

_VAST – Touched_

_10 Years – Focus_

_10 Years – Cycle of Life_

_She Wants Revenge – Pretend the World has Ended_

_Fuel – Haloes of the Sun_

_Dir en Grey - 24ko Cylinder_

_Karthik & Mohamed Irfan - Behene de  
_

_Poets of the Fall – Carnival of Rust_

_

* * *

_

**Serendipity**

**Chapter 5 (Part 2)**

"…I thought you said that you weren't worried."

Harry paused in the midst of his pacing to shoot his redheaded friend a suitably peeved look. Ron held up his hands in a warding gesture, a teasing grin tugging at his lips. Harry sighed and returned to his restless pacing without a word.

It was one thing to say that you weren't worried about someone's return when you had full confidence in their capabilities, but it was quite another when said someone had been gone for a total of six hours and hadn't bothered to contact you. Logically speaking, Harry was certain that Squalo wouldn't have enough time to call and say that he was still fine and in one piece – and anyway, even if he _did _have the time, the other man would have found the idea of doing anything of the sort utterly preposterous - but he couldn't help but feel anxious about the entire situation. His 'selfless hero' senses were tingling, and he just _knew _that something had gone wrong.

He stopped again and groaned loudly, tugging at his hair frenetically. This was getting ridiculous. He didn't know _why_ he was feeling so antsy about Squalo being a little late. He hadn't asked where the man had to go, and Squalo hadn't volunteered an address, in keeping with his 'plausible deniability' concept. One that Harry was fully willing to support. He knew for a fact that Kingsley was already starting to get suspicious about his connections in Italy, and he didn't want to have any extra information burdening his guilty conscience any more than it had to be burdened.

When Ron said that he was heading off to make use of the facilities, Harry simply nodded distractedly. Once the other man was gone, Harry slowly made his way back to the couches and sat himself down, trying to quell the uneasy feeling in his gut. It was like a leaden ball of discomfort sitting in his stomach. Just when he was beginning to think that the feeling was getting to be unbearable, the doorbell rang.

The agent all but flung himself out of the couch and marched towards the door with a thunderous expression on his face, more than ready to give the Italian a piece of his mind, but any thoughts of yelling at the man were flung far away from his thoughts once the door swung open. Squalo was sagging tiredly against the wall on the other side, a vacant grin on his face.

"…Hey. Know any good spells to get blood out of wallpaper? The carpet here's crimson anyway, so it won't make a difference, but the stain on the wallpaper's a little too obvious."

Any unease that had been banished by the ringing of the doorbell came back in full force. He quickly guided the mafioso in, and then stepped out to check on the blood stain on the wallpaper outside. He winced. Squalo had been very right; an imprint that size would _definitely_ draw the wrong kind of attention. Flicking his wrist to draw his old holly wand from the wand holster near-permanently strapped to his right arm, he then waved the wand in a series of unfortunately familiar gestures that he knew as well as the back of his hand. The stain immediately dissolved, leaving no sign of blood behind. Quickly reholstering the wand, he stepped back inside and tugged the door shut behind himself.

Squalo was leaning languorously against the wall right beside the door, not having moved any further inside. Harry cursed and moved to stand in front of him. The silveret slowly glanced up from the floor, and Harry had no trouble noticing how dilated his pupils had become.

"Squalo, what the hell?" he demanded, disturbed. However worried he had been, he sure as fuck hadn't been expecting something like _this._

Squalo gave a lazy smirk, and reached up to cup Harry's face with his right hand, the left dangling downwards with the weight of the blood-stained sword still bound to it. Harry pursed his lips, then raised his arms to rest his hands on the silveret's shoulders.

"We need to get that sword off of you. Just how badly are you hurt?" he asked apprehensively. Squalo gave him a light smirk, his mental faculties obviously still functioning in perfect order despite whatever had happened to him while carrying out the clean up order.

"I've been worse," he murmured. Harry leant forward, fingers gripping the material of the swordsman's coat.

"I don't doubt that. Hell, _I've _been worse. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't clean you up." The sable haired man stressed sharply. Squalo's smirk settled into a toothy grin as he eyed the older man's stormy expression.

"Did I ever mention how hot you look when you're angry?" he returned pleasantly. The flabbergasted expression that appeared on Harry's face was very rewarding. He snickered and easily leant in to cover those few inches separating their lips, tilting the green eyed man's face up for easier access.

Harry protested silently, of course, his fingers tightening painfully on the silveret's shoulders, but Squalo just wasn't willing to take no for an answer. Feeling the tip of the swordsman's tongue gently ghost across the seam of his lips, he involuntarily gasped, and ended up stepping closer for more contact when Squalo didn't waste the opportunity to slide his tongue in. Harry moaned into the kiss, slipping one hand off of the silveret's shoulders and pressing it up against the wall for support while curving the other over Squalo's neck, his nails lightly pressing down against his skin. Squalo hummed appreciatively, sliding his hand down from Harry's face and over the curve of his back to finally stop at his waistline, splaying his fingers and urging the older man closer as he guided their tongues into a slow dance.

Harry groaned lowly, his nails digging harder into the nape of Squalo's neck as tried to shift himself even closer, pulling until Squalo leaned down and gave them better leeway to deepen the kiss just that _little bit more, _enough to leave them with a heady, breathless feeling that had them pulling away slightly to drag some air into their lungs and then pulling together again. Harry twisted some of those crimson stained white strands around his fingers, completely heedless of the evidence of the very bloody slaughter the mafioso had no doubt returned from, and tugged roughly. It was enough to make Squalo growl, his fingers finally shifting the last inch down to curl under the hem of the wizard's shirt.

"Harry, was that – ah."

Harry stiffened, and pulled back immediately. Though he didn't completely break away from Squalo's half embrace, breathing a little heavily. Squalo's breaths sounded positively _ragged_ in comparison, though. Harry groaned, and stared up at him with an aggravated expression.

"Must you _always _distract me like this when you're wounded?" he asked wearily. Squalo smirked back, the answer all too obvious. Harry glowered, about to snap out an angry rejoinder to remind the man just _why_ it was a bad idea to make out when he was still hurt and very likely bleeding, when noticed a red smear, standing out like a beacon against the ivory white of his walls. Right behind Squalo's head, and it hadn't been there before the mafioso had leant back against the wall.

Paling, Harry quickly reached behind to check the back of the swordsman's head, glaring when Squalo tired to shift away. When his fingers came away wet, the unease he had been feeling earlier intensified.

"Ron, go get Hermione."

He barely heard the questioning sound the redhead made, instead pressing both hands to either side of Squalo's head and gently pulling him down to stare fixedly into his eyes, willing him to give a straight answer for once.

"Squalo. How badly are you hurt."

Squalo stared back, eyes blank, before a hard glint appeared in them. He lifted a shoulder in an uncaring half shrug, gaze sliding to the side.

"Not too bad. Head wound. Got shot twice."

Harry's face went ashen, and he heard Ron curse loudly and shoot past them. The door opened and slammed shut right after, its sound echoing in the stifling silence left behind. Harry didn't say anything more, simply circling his fingers around Squalo's right wrist and dragging him along behind himself as he marched straight towards the bathroom, steadfastly ignoring any and all of the loud objections Squalo had to being manhandled.

By the time they had reached the bathroom, Squalo had gone silent, his face disturbingly frigid. Harry pulled to a stop in front of the main counter – a solid creation of blue pearl marble holding the sink and affording enough space to keep anything he might need to take out - and wordlessly raised his hands to start undoing the buttons of the silveret's leather jacket, keeping his eyes well away from those pale eyes which were undoubtedly as icy as a winter deluge right then. The silence was harsh, and bitterly cold in the absence of the usual noise that Squalo could be counted upon to make

Harry only paused when all the buttons had been opened, glancing once towards the cold length of steel still fastened to the younger man's left hand and then looking back to where his own hands were still resting on the material of the jacket. He breathed in shallowly, then looked up, evenly meeting Squalo's biting gaze.

"You'll have to remove the bindings of your sword, I'd rather not mess something up in my ignorance."

Squalo gave a magnificent sneer, but lifted his arm anyway. The fingers of his right hand made short work of the once white tapes, efficient and fluid in the task that had no doubt been allotted to them thousands of times before. The sword fell to the floor, clanging loudly against its marble surface. Harry pursed his lips, but mutely pushed the jacket off Squalo's shoulders, helping him ease his arms out of the sleeves. There was a telltale tremble working through the swordsman's muscles, undeniable proof that _yes_, he _did_ hurt like hell, but there was no chance that he would ever admit it out loud. Harry scowled unconsciously once the jacket had been removed, taking in the large stain covering most of the left side of Squalo's once white shirt.

"Mind telling me why you've always got to be so goddamn stubborn?" he asked rhetorically, fingers automatically rising to start undoing the buttons on the shirt as well. Squalo snorted.

"As if you've got any room to talk, bitch."

Harry rolled his eyes, refusing to rise to the bait. Squalo's gaze was resting on the top of his head like a corporeal weight; it made him feel a little conscious, but it wasn't anything he hadn't felt before. Once the buttons were undone, he lifted his hands to slip the shirt off, but stopped short when Squalo's hand rose to close over his left wrist. He looked up again, eyes narrowed irately, but Squalo gave a half-smirk, completely at odds with the darkening look in his eyes.

"So, back to this, are we?"

Harry frowned, uncomprehending for a moment, but then, the situation suddenly seemed all too familiar. Blinking away the memory of another bathroom, and the same man sitting wounded outside it, he chuckled.

"Well, as long as you don't go and call me _pretty_ again…" he shot back. The bark of laughter that rose from Squalo's throat was surprisingly comforting. Harry didn't shift his gaze away from the silveret's, even when he felt a callused thumb lightly trace over the underside of his wrist.

"Don't tempt me." Squalo murmured in turn, eyes glittering. Harry smiled and hooked his fingers in the material of the younger man's shirt, more than ready to continue with wherever their exchange was leading, when they were cut short by a loud gasp coming from the living room.

"What in Merlin's name-!"

Squalo's eyebrows rose at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, while Harry quickly took a proprietary step back and dragged his wayward attention back to removing the silveret's blood soaked shirt.

"Hermione." he explained, answering the unvoiced question.

And then, there was no more need for any further explanation, because Hermione's appearance at the bathroom door - reminiscent of a centralised, golden-brown whirlwind – spoke for itself.

"_Harry James Potter, _if you managed to go and get yourself hurt _again_, I'll-Oh!" she broke off with a surprised sound, her eyes rounding as she took in the sight of the unfamiliar, silver-haired man standing in front of her friend. Once the copious amount of blood on his skin and clothes had sunk in, though, she shoved her confusion aside and strode forward in a businesslike manner.

"What happened here? No, don't answer that, Harry. I don't think I want to know. You, how badly are you hurt?" she added the last statement with a penetrating look towards Squalo, who looked a little irked at suddenly being interrogated by someone he'd never met before.

"Two bullet wounds and a head wound, 'Mione. No idea how the last happened, though. Squalo?"

Squalo snorted, and arched an eyebrow challengingly when her eyes narrowed at him. Their war of wills managed to last only until Harry tugged sharply at the swordsman's collar. When Squalo looked down to grace him with a dirty look, Harry scowled right back.

"Stop being so imbecilic and answer the question, it'll give her a better idea of what we need to heal you if you do." Squalo's jaw dropped in pure outrage.

"_Imbecilic?"_

"Yes, _imbecilic._ And fucking juvenile, if you want to get into it."

Hermione watched in disbelief as the two men quickly deteriorated into petty insults that were slowly getting louder and fouler with each passing second. She was relieved when Ron appeared at her shoulder. Her redheaded boyfriend took in the scene with a blank face, but Hermione elbowed him anyway, knowing for certain that he was laughing below that deceptively calm façade.

"Ron, for God's sake, help me instead of taking in the view! And, before that man passes out; he's lost enough blood as it is!"

Ron smirked, but he dutifully stepped in once he'd gently pushed her to the side.

"Stop it you two, you can bicker with each other later. Superbi, how'd you get hit?"

"Got a pipe slammed into the back of my head." The silveret ground out grudgingly. Harry was alarmed to see that he was actually starting to look a little unsteady on his feet. With how well Squalo had been holding up, he'd almost forgotten how much blood the mafioso had not doubt already lost.

_Was still loosing._

"Guys, go to the bedroom and take out whatever we need; I'll get Squalo as soon as we get some of the blood off of him." He broke in hurriedly, taking a nearly miniscule step closer to the younger man. Ron shot him a probing look, then nodded, the corners of his eyes pulling tight. He spun around without another word and grabbed Hermione, propelling her in front of him towards the bedrooms and ignoring her insistent demands for a better explanation of what was going on. Squalo sagged against the counter the moment they were out of sight, and Harry muttered a choice curse, stepping closer to forcefully tug at the open sides of his shirt.

"Come on, the faster you get your clothes off, the faster I can take you back to the bedroom to get the bullets removed," he muttered, slipping his hands underneath the cloth. Squalo laughed harshly, the sound ripping itself from the depths of his throat.

"A little control, Potter. Don't want to look too eager, do you?"

Harry paused in the process of guiding the swordsman's right arm through the sleeve, brows lowering in an irate expression, but the emotion quickly dissolved. He sighed, beginning to feel exhausted.

"Squalo, stop."

The wizard's tired tone was enough to bring the younger man to a halt. Squalo squinted down at him, honestly unnerved at the depth of emotion hidden in that one word. It was a request, warning, plea and command all wound into one mass, with a very honest undertone of worry that the sable haired man was doing _nothing_ to actually hold back any more. It was convincing enough to make him to wait out whatever the hell the older man wanted to put him through.

He was slowly beginning to realise that however much he tried to avoid being cared for, and no matter however many taunts and curses and insults he spat out, Harry Potter would _not_ take no for an answer.

And _that_ realisation was enough to make him bite back all the snide witticisms that came to him as he watched the man first stoop to clean the blood covering his torso, then crouch lower to try and do something about the mess that had become of his thigh. He somehow managed to hold back his utter disgust at needing to sit and allow Potter to wash the dried blood out of his hair, and didn't say anything when the older man slowly lifted his sword from the floor, only to lay it on the counter, not doing anything more. He'd didn't say anything, knowing that if he did, the man was likely to retort that he was more concerned with keeping _him_ alive, rather than caring for his sword.

Squalo allowed a towel to be wrapped around his waist, and silently bore the indignity of being guided to the master bedroom, vowing that he was going to give the older man _hell_ for this. But he would bear it. Only this once.

Only because he really didn't know how to deal with someone so honestly set on caring for him. It had been too long since anyone else had tried.

* * *

The procedure for dealing with bullet wounds while using magic was something that Harry didn't care for in the slightest. It was messy, painful and very easy to screw up unless you had the correct training. In short, not something Ron, Hermione and he were qualified to pull off.

Speaking officially, of course. Unofficially was a different matter.

"Ron, keep a hold on his legs. Harry, you take care of his torso-"

"Woman. Do you have _any_ idea what this sounds like?"

Hermione paused to give the silveret lying flat on the bed a withering look. Squalo, for his part, was watching her with a look of horrified interest. Ron coughed pointedly - though he looked like he was trying not to laugh - and stepped closer to the edge of the bed near the swordsman's feet while Harry rolled his eyes, simultaneously closing his hands around Squalo's shoulders.

"-Right. As I was saying, Harry, keep a hold on his torso. Squalo, it's your choice whether to grip something with your teeth or not. We can overlook that part if you can control your reflex to bite down while I'm getting the bullets out, of course."

Squalo sneered up at her, quite ready to declare that he could control that particular reflex _quite_ well, thanks, when he felt Harry fingers tighten minutely on his shoulders. He blinked, and peered up questioningly at the older man. Harry stared back with a solemn expression.

"It might be best to bite down on something, mate. This is going to be as uncomfortable as hell."

Squalo's eyebrows rose slowly, especially when the redhead standing near his feet nodded solemnly to show his agreement to what Harry was saying.

"…If whatever you're planning to do is going to hurt so damn much, I might as well dig the bullets out with a heated knife or something. It's not like I haven't done that before."

"This method is better than something so barbaric because you're less likely to damage anything else. We're essentially going to make the bullet retrace it's entry into the body, going backwards. The only reason it hurts is because the bullet's going to be scrapping against already wounded flesh in the process." Hermione recited blandly. Squalo eyed her for a second, weighing how honest the claim was, before nodded with a resigned expression on his face.

Hermione immediately turned to grab the napkin Ron had gotten out, rolling it with quick and practised movements and passed it on to Harry, who then held it at level with Squalo's mouth. The silveret looked absolutely repulsed with the proceedings, but opened his mouth to accept the rolled up cloth anyway.

Hermione's eyes passed over all three of the men, making sure that everyone was ready, before raising her wand.

Squalo wasn't prepared for the excruciating burst of pain that cleaved through his leg the moment the brunette started murmuring quietly. He grunted, unconsciously straining against the hands holding him down, and gritting his teeth as the painful spasms increased with each word that slipped out of the woman's mouth, accompanied by an uncomfortable throbbing sensation in the region of his thigh that kept building the longer she chanted. And then, just when he had begun to wonder why the fuck he hadn't just dug out the wretched bullets himself, the pain abruptly stopped. Squalo sagged back, vaguely hearing an odd squelching sound, but he was just relieved that the agonising sensation had reverted back to the residual ache he'd already gotten used to.

"You okay?"

He blinked up into the green eyes regarding him stoically, and then nodded, a tight grin surfacing on his face. As if a little pain could get him down.

"That's one bullet, at least. Ron, get those pads here – Oh, and some of that salve that we got from Neville, too. We'd best get the leg wound completely out of the way before moving on to the abdomen-"

"What about the pipe wound?"

Hermione looked up from where she was pressing some temporary padding to the silveret's thigh in order to staunch the increased flow of blood – at least until Ron brought the salve from the bag of medical supplies they had brought along. Harry was watching her with an inscrutable expression on his face as he helped his friend up, but she'd known him long enough to know when he was worried. She sighed, shifting her hold on the white padding that was quickly becoming a dark red. Ron had best get that salve quickly, some of the components Neville had used would slow down the blood flow faster than any spell or padding could…

"I know enough spells to check and heal brain trauma, Harry. With the number of scrapes you and Ron have been through both in and out of school, not to mention after you joined the Ministry-"

"But-"

"I'll deal with the bullets first, then take care of his head. Once we remove the bullets, I'll be able to give him a blood replenishing potion, which is what I'm more concerned with at the moment. He's really lost far too much blood, it's a wonder he hasn't passed out yet."

"_He_ is too accustomed to losing blood to pass out every time he gets hurt." Squalo drawled out, leaning back on his elbows to smirk at the brunette who started the moment he spoke. He felt as much as heard the huff of amusement escape the sable haired man kneeling behind him on the bed, since there hadn't been any other way for Harry to keep a hold on his shoulders. The brunette – Hermione, he reminded himself – looked as though she wanted to fire off a disparaging remark, but was distracted when Weasley returned with a small container filled with some bright purple concoction. Squalo made a face.

"I hope that salve works better than it looks," he muttered lowly, only loud enough for Harry to hear. The older man nodded amusedly.

"Sure does. Better than what I used on you the last time, in fact. This one was made by an old friend of ours; his homemade salves are ten times stronger than anything you'd find in a store."

"Interesting set of friends you've got. One tracks you down in Italy at my place, another seems to be an expert at removing bullets and now, a third makes _wonder salves_?" Squalo commented sarcastically. Harry chuckled in response. Put like that, it really _was_ too much to pass off as a coincidence.

"We all grew up under interesting circumstances."

"Oh? Like what?" There was no hiding the thread of curiosity that had surfaced in the younger man's voice. Harry snorted.

"Later, once you're not bleeding all over my bed."

"Right, that's enough conversation for now. We've still got one more bullet to remove before 'Mione can deal with the pipe wound; let's get this over and done with." Ron called out while unscrewing the lid of the container. Squalo muttered something unpleasant, but lay down again without complaint when Harry tugged on his shoulders.

Let's get this over and done with, indeed.

* * *

"I really can't thank you enough for this, 'Mione. I wouldn't have known whom else to call."

Hermione rolled her eyes, washing off the last of the blood from her hands before straightening to eye the lean, messy haired form of her dear friend. Harry was leaning against the door to the bathroom, looking much more at ease with himself now that the silver haired man, Superbi, had been bandaged and cared for. She still couldn't believe that they'd needed to give him two of the three blood replenishing potions that Ron had dropped into their bag of medical supplies before starting out.

She _was_ dreadfully curious, of course. But she wasn't planning on asking any questions, at least not _tonight_, not when they were all still tired out from the impromptu bullet wound-healing session. Not when Harry looked like all he wanted to do was go back and stay by the side of his mysterious friend until he was certain that the silveret wouldn't sneak out of bed again. Really, he was as bad as _Harry_ had been back in school. And that was saying something.

"Hey, I took care of the stains on the wall outside." She glanced around Harry to see Ron coming in from the living room, wand still grasped loosely in his fingers. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm not going to ask about what's going on here, you two. I want a good explanation later, though. Is that clear?"

She felt a little gratified when both men nodded dolefully, identical apologetic expressions on their faces. And there was another question she wanted answered. She was willing to bet Harry had more than a few contacts and friends ferreted away all over the place - he wasn't the type to be open about such things - but the fact that _Ron_ obviously knew who the silveret was… Well.

One little question wouldn't hurt, would it?

"Could you two tell me who that man _is_, at the least?"

Her curiosity only increased when they shuffled their feet rather uncomfortably. This situation had been going on for some time, then. They wouldn't have looked so guilty otherwise. She waited patiently while both her boys stared at each other, casting about for a decent answer. Finally, Harry sighed and turned back to her.

"He's an old friend of mine, in a sense. I met him on a mission I'd been on in Taiwan a couple years ago."

Her eyebrows arched speculatively. There was obviously more to it than that, if the closed off look on Ron's face was anything to go by. She hadn't seen him look like that in years, not since -

She stiffened.

_Not since the time Harry disappeared on work in Italy._

She quickly drew away from the sink and strode closer to Harry and Ron. It was tremendously amusing, though, to see two grown men, both of whom were taller than her, cowering under her gaze. Forget cowering, Ron wasn't even meeting her eyes. Harry, at least, was steadfastly meeting her eye to eye.

She wasn't really able to _say_ anything, though. Before she could even figure out _what_ to say, she caught a glimpse of pale silvery hair coming up from her right. From the full body twitch that went through Harry, it was obvious that he had, too.

"Squalo, what the fuck do you think you're doing out of bed?" he demanded testily. Hermione was instantly reminded of her school days – and the number of times they had had to fight tooth and nail with Madam Pomfrey to get out of the infirmary - when she saw the positively innocent expression on the pale eyed man's face. Harry, to her amusement, only looked more incensed.

"Get your arse back in bed this instant!"

"And if I say no?" Squalo drawled disinterestedly, sliding past them gracefully and heading towards the living room. Harry took off right after him, cursing violently. Ron remained behind, looking faintly amused. The smile that had appeared while watching the byplay between Harry and his odd friend slowly slipped off her face.

She stepped closer to the redhead, raising her hand to curl her fingers lightly into the material of his shirt and peered up into his jewel blue eyes.

"Ron."

Ron sighed softly, and looked away, but he raised a hand to cover her own all the same. Slowly squeezed down, offering a facsimile of comfort that wasn't comforting at all.

"Not my story to tell, Hermione."

Hermione continued to watch him for a moment longer, wishing that he would just _answer_, but she didn't press the question. Not when his voice had that note of finality to it.

Not his story to tell.

Well then. She and Harry had to have a nice long talk one of these days, didn't they?

* * *

Once the door had finally been shut on his friends' backs, Harry collapsed against it with a sigh. Turning himself around, he wearily leant back against it, feeling as though a couple of years had passed by in the span of the last couple hours. He scowled at the silveret lazily lounging in one of the bar chairs by the kitchen counter, clad in nothing but a pair of black track pants and watching him with a faint smirk.

"I thought I told you to get back in bed."

Squalo rolled his eyes and absently pulled his right leg up, comfortably wrapping an arm around it while leaning back against the counter, ignoring the wizard staring murderously at him from the door.

Harry couldn't help but twitch at the sight of the position the younger man was seated in. Pulling a leg up like that could only aggravate the wound in his abdomen, but he didn't say anything, knowing for a fact that it was a lost cause. It wasn't like Squalo would listen to him. He marched forward, completely prepared to drag the man to bed since they'd already had a bite to eat before Ron and Hermione left. It wasn't nearly as simple as he'd made it sound in his head, though. Squalo wasn't exactly a person who allowed himself to be dragged around; Harry had been successful earlier only because he'd managed to catch the silveret off guard. Squalo wasn't nearly as startled the second time, staring coolly up at the older man when he tried to pull him out of the chair.

Harry gave up after a few more tugs, mumbling incomprehensibly as hoisted himself up onto the counter beside the other man.

"Stubborn git," he muttered accusingly, a petulant expression crossing over his features before fading away. Squalo shot him a bored look, shifting to make himself more comfortable.

"You should listen to people when they're trying to help, y'know," Harry continued, wondering if he could needle the man into getting up, when the cold expression that appeared on Squalo's face made him stop short.

"I don't _need _your help." Squalo ground out. Harry's eyebrows rose in equal measures of surprise and disbelief.

"Says the man who stumbled into my apartment covered in blood not two hours ago." He said sharply, honestly beginning to feel vexed. However proud or self-reliant you were, it was sheer stupidity to not accept help when it was freely given. The memory of the fact that _he_ had never accepted anyone's help back in his teenage years was carefully brushed aside.

"Voooiiiiiiii, that's only because I had nowhere else to go, I wouldn't have come back otherwise!"

Harry's hands fisted tight on the surface of the counter, an enraged look settling on his face.

"You goddamn ungrateful _bastard; _I give you a place to stay, hide the fact that you're in the country from the fucking Ministry, I even get my friends to come and help _heal_ you-!"

"I never asked for any of that, Potter. Don't expect me to be thankful about something I never wanted in the first place." Squalo hissed, getting up roughly from the chair and then hiding a wince at the sudden twinge of pain from his abdomen. The hand that lashed out to clutch at his arm and pulled him closer was unexpected enough that he didn't react immediately.

"I'm not asking you to be _thankful, _you idiot! I'm just asking you let people help you out every once in a while!" Harry snapped.

"I've never needed any _help_ from anyone my whole damn life, and I'm not going to start needing it any time soon, bitch. Drop the fucking topic if you know what's good for you." Squalo growled, pale eyes narrowed with some emotion a lot darker than anger clouding them. Harry pursed his lips, not really willing to let the topic slide, but loosened his grip on the younger man's arm all the same. He was relieved when Squalo didn't just break out of his hold and storm off to the guestroom, though. On the contrary, he stepped closer.

Staring up into the silveret's taut, violently defensive expression, he sighed, anger beginning to wane and edging towards something close to fond exasperation.

"Overproud fool," he murmured, voice soft as he slipped his arms over the taller man's shoulders. Squalo twitched, so obviously against the description that Harry had to smile, lacing his fingers behind the man's pale neck and tugging him down to brush their lips together. He felt Squalo stiffen at first, surprised at the sudden display of affection, before slowly leaning into the kiss, raising his hands and laying them on the counter on either side of his hips. Harry closed his eyes and parted his lips, skimming his tongue across the seam of the other man's mouth before slipping past into the moist cavern waiting for him. He sighed lowly into the kiss, almost smiling when he felt Squalo's hands rise, slowly closing over his hips and then sliding higher, fingers easing under the hem of his t-shirt and ghosting up his sides. When their lips drew apart, Harry opened his eyes to find Squalo watching him with a contemplative expression on his face. He tilted his head to the side and quirked an eyebrow questioningly. Squalo snorted and shook his head, a smirk settling on his lips.

"You're crazy."

Harry smiled, pulling one hand away from the younger man's neck and lifting it to twine his fingers around some of the long, silver-white stands framing the other's face.

"If I'm crazy, then what the hell does that make you?"

Squalo's smirk widened into a near unholy grin as he closed his right hand over Harry's knee and inexorably pulled his legs further apart to step between them.

"I wonder. Fucking insane?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh out loud at that, letting the soft strands of Squalo's hair slip free as the silveret leant in again, pale eyes a whole lot more intense than they had been earlier. His mirth was quickly shoved aside in favour of a much more favourable emotion. He closed his eyes tightly, groaning into the roughness of the kiss as Squalo all but wrenched his mouth open, tongue thrusting in and tangling wetly with his. The dual sensation of cold and warm fingers inching up his skin, lazily mapping out the line of his muscles and steadily stroking heat into them was a definite turn on.

He reluctantly ripped his mouth away, gasping for breath while the silveret simply shifted his focus to his throat, languidly dragging his teeth and tongue over the flushed skin. It was like he was tasting the flesh, choosing where to lavish his attention. Harry's fingers clutched at the Italian's bare shoulders when his mouth closed over the junction of his jaw and neck, sucking harshly at the skin.

"Fuck, Squalo, not that _high_-" Harry's words broke off into a moan, unconsciously baring more of his throat and skin to the silveret who bit down viciously when he tried to shift away. The tongue stroking hotly against the wound only added to the sharp twinge of heat that burnt through him. He blindly fisted his hands in the thick mass of white that had slipped over Squalo's shoulders and roughly pulled him back up to crush their lips together, thrusting his tongue into the younger man's mouth and groaning appreciatively when the swordsman's tongue slid wetly against his. He nearly whimpered at the loss of heat when Squalo abruptly pulled away.

"Superbi, get back here_-"_

"Yeah, yeah-"

Harry stiffened when he felt Squalo's fingers hook in the material of his shirt, beginning to slide it up. _Shit,_ no. That was going a little too far. He tried to struggle back immediately, but the swordsman's hold wasn't exactly easy to get out of.

"Squalo, you came back home _bleeding_ barely _two fucking hours ago_-"

"As if something like that's ever stopped me before." Squalo grunted, freeing one of his hands from the material of the shirt and lifting it to try and turn the older man's face upwards for a bruising kiss - anything to distract the bitch from _thinking _for a few seconds - when Harry's hands pressed against his shoulders and firmly shoved him backwards with enough force to actually make him stumble back a step. He stood stock-still, eyes comically wide as he watched Harry slip down from the counter. The wizard glanced towards him and rolled his eyes.

"You don't have to look so horrified. Go get some rest; you look like you could use some. I'll see you in the morning." He said mildly, striding past the mafioso's frozen form with an easy gait. He didn't make it very far, though, barely managing to take a single step into the corridor leading to the bedrooms before Squalo's arms snaked around him from behind.

"Am I supposed to convince you to have sex every fucking time, Potter?" the words were delivered in such an exasperated tone that Harry had to fight not to laugh. The point he'd been trying to make would be lost if he gave in to the urge to break down in snickers. He tested the other man's hold by trying to pry apart the arms locked around him, but the younger man's grip only tightened when he did so.

When he felt the other's lips trail lazily up the side of his neck, he sighed and carefully leant back into the hard form behind him. And when those lips curved into a smirk against his skin, he had to swallow dryly, reaching back to twist his fingers into the soft hair at the silveret's nape. No, Squalo didn't need to do any verbal convincing at all; his actions alone were convincing enough.

"Squalo, you're _wounded_. The bleeding hasn't even stopped completely; it's just the salve working overtime to slow down the rate at which you're loosing blood. You're in no condition to-" his words got caught in his throat when he felt the swordsman's right hand ease under his shirt, the callused pads of his fingers lightly tracing the lines of his abdominal muscles. He shuddered when the younger man lifted his head to whisper hotly in his ear.

"Then why don't you just fuck me instead."

_Circe__…_

"Squalo…" he groaned, leaning his head back against the man's shoulder. Squalo's fingers skimmed higher, running across his ribs, while his left arm remained curved around his shoulders, holding him in place and not letting him escape. When he felt those fingers move back downwards, though, trailing over his skin and moving towards the waistband of his sweatpants, he breathed in sharply and tried to pull away anyway.

"Squalo, I think you're completely missing the point I'm trying to make," he ground out, willing himself not to jerk up into the feel of the younger man's roughened fingers slipping down the front of his sweats. He felt Squalo's low laughter whisper across his skin as a warm tongue stroked over his pulse. When the silveret's long fingers loosely closed around his aching length, he moaned, feeling helpless in the face of the scalding heat that the mafioso's touch was evoking in him.

"Stop thinking so hard," the words were murmured lowly into his ear as Squalo stroked his fingers upwards, thumb almost lazily circling the head collecting moisture, and Harry couldn't help but jerk his hips into the slow friction, lips parting to spit out a harsh retort when they were covered with Squalo's own. He could feel the cold fingers of the swordsman's left hand curl around his chin, twisting his face to the side and tugging to make him open his mouth, allowing the man to force his tongue in, tracing over his teeth and sliding against his tongue.

Harry clenched his eyes shut, arching into the touch of the younger man and tightening the grip he had on the silky-soft hair; so different from the rest of Squalo, who was as acerbic and sharp edged as they came. His chest was beginning to ache, and he groaned into the kiss, widening his mouth and pulling Squalo closer so that their tongues could tangle further. The shift of Squalo's callused fingers against his length and the depth of the kiss were making him feel like he was drowning. When Harry pulled back to take a breath, beginning to feel dazed, Squalo slowly pulled his hand out of the wizard's pants. Harry opened his mouth, half-way ready to protest, but the silveret merely snorted and spun him around, roughly shoving at him until his back met the wall of the corridor.

Harry stared up into the younger man's eyes, any objections he had dying on his tongue when he saw the dark, wanting look simmering in them. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff in the middle of a storm, being lashed by rain and wind. The promise in those eyes made a shiver course down his spine as he tentatively raised his hands to frame Squalo's face. The heat in the mafioso's gaze only increased as he leaned into the gentle touch, his arms lifting to press against the wall on either side of Harry's head, closeting him against the wall.

Harry bit his lip, not missing the way Squalo's eyes immediately dropped to his mouth. He slowly traced his thumbs over the silveret's well-defined cheekbones, eyelids slipping to half-mast when Squalo moved forward, quickly crossing the distance between them and slanting their mouths together. His tongue languidly slid between Harry's lips, dipping in more for the sake of teasing than anything else, and Harry found that he couldn't pull his gaze away from the lust-darkened eyes staring heatedly into his own. Shuddering, he let his hands slide up and fist in the thick white hair trailing everywhere, dragging the swordsman closer and sucking on the slick muscle in his mouth. The growl that built up low in Squalo's chest reverberated through Harry's being as he swallowed it down, his eyelids dropping as the fervour behind the kiss increased.

It was like tasting the intensity of a rainstorm on the tip of his tongue, feeling all the raging fury of a torrential downpour coursing through his veins, somehow submerging him and dragging him down even when he could still feel the firmness of the ground beneath his feet.

But it was so addictive that he didn't think he wanted to feel anything else any time soon.

When Squalo pulled away to tug at his shirt a second time, Harry unhesitatingly raised his arms, reaching for the silveret once he had tossed the shirt aside. Squalo looked thoroughly amused, his lips spreading in an unrestrained grin.

"Changed your mind pretty fast." He murmured, running his fingers down Harry's sides to hook them into the older man's pants. Harry snorted, and fully braced himself against the wall, spreading his legs slightly and staring up at the younger man with an unimpressed light glowing in his eyes - completely at odds with his kiss-bruised lips and flushed cheeks.

"Haven't changed my mind at all. I still say that you're in no condition to do something so strenuous." He said deliberately. Squalo groaned, and slipped his fingers below the waistline of the other man's pants, closing them around his hips.

"And you're got the fucking balls to call _me_ stubborn." He growled, dragging the sable haired man away from the wall and closer to himself. Harry allowed himself to be pulled forward, even slipping his arms around the silveret's neck, twisting his fingers through the younger man's hair and staring up at him from below his lowered lashes. Squalo stared back at him, the intensity in his eyes not having died down in the slightest. He sighed lowly and leaned forward, pressing his brow against the older man's.

"I was serious about letting you fuck me, you know," he breathed, the words whispering against Harry's lips. The wizard ignored the tendril of heat that crawled through him at the admission, and roughly tugged at the hair in his grasp until Squalo tilted his head back with a hissed curse. Harry leaned in to lightly drag his teeth up the pale column bared to him, pausing at intervals to suck at and mark the skin, smiling at the uninhibited groan that escaped from Squalo's lips.

"It's not like I haven't before. And I never needed any express permission to fuck you then. Do I require it now?" he asked teasingly, smirking when the swordsman sneered back something particularly foul in Italian. He closed his mouth over the hollow of Squalo's throat and lightly ran his tongue over the salt-tinged skin before sucking gently. The fingers that tightened painfully on his hips warned him that the younger man was in no mood for any more games that night, but he really couldn't help himself. And, anyway, he really didn't want to let this go too far, no matter _what_ Squalo wanted. Someone had to be reasonable in a situation like this, and it might as well be him.

Not that the Italian was making it any easier for him.

"Harry, for _fuck's sake-_" Hearing his name being ground out in that strained, impatient tone was really doing no favours for his self control, and the lazy circles that Squalo's thumbs were slowly stroking out against the sensitive skin of his hips weren't helping either. Breathing in deeply, he pulled away from the silveret's now reddened throat with one last nip. He let go of his firm grip on the other man's hair, and allowed his fingers to slowly glide down Squalo's nape and over his back. The gauzy material of the bandages wound around Squalo's middle scraped lightly against the pads of his fingers on the way down, though, and Harry couldn't ignore the way Squalo stiffened almost imperceptibly. It was most probably a reflex, something that the silveret would never have done consciously, but the very fact that it was a reflex was telling. He sighed softly, then tipped his head up to speak, his words pitched so low that Squalo barely managed to catch them.

"I don't have anything against sleeping with you, Squalo. Actually, I don't even give a damn about who's going to fuck whom, I'm happy enough either way. But you can't honestly tell me that your wounds aren't going to get buggered up if we go through with this."

Squalo actually paused for a moment, turning the statement over in his head. He might not have agreed with what the older man was saying… That is, if he hadn't gotten shot in the abdomen. As far as he was concerned, the leg wound was negligible. Yes, that was the one that had gotten aggravated during the process of getting till the apartment, but it was still minor compared to an abdominal wound. And however much he said that a little blood and pain never stopped him from doing whatever he wanted, it wasn't the best of ideas to aggravate an abdominal wound when he'd already lost a lot of blood. He scowled irately.

"How well do those blood shots of yours work?"

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that his words would actually get through to the hard-headed man.

"Well enough. Your blood level should have returned to normal by tomorrow morning, but you'll have to take a nutrient restoration draught before you eat breakfast so that your body's natural stores can be replenished. All that the potion does is speed up your body's natural blood production capability, after all. And they're called blood _replenishing potions, _not _shots._"

Squalo gave him a dry look, as if to say _'Do you really think I give a fuck about what they're called?'_, but it was quickly replaced by a mildly thoughtful expression.

"And the salve?"

Harry was starting to feel a little apprehensive. He really couldn't tell what was going through Squalo's head.

"You'll need to keep applying it for at least three more days, but the bleeding should stop in a few hours."

Squalo took that in, and then nodded decisively. Harry sighed in relief.

"Right. Then we'd best get to bed; I'll need to get up early tomorrow and get a nutritional draught from Hermione, since I think I'm all out-" Harry made a strangled sound when the silveret shoved him back into the wall before he could finish speaking.

"Who the hell said anything about going to sleep?"

The sable haired wizard blinked owlishly, but he wasn't given enough time to finish thinking before a pair of cool, chapped lips crashed onto his own. His eyes widened, hands scrabbling for purchase against either the wall or the silveret's shoulders, but Squalo caught both by the wrist and slammed them up against the wall above his head. When Harry felt the younger man's left hand reach up to lazily trail along his jaw line, then tug roughly at his chin, coaxing him to part his lips, he growled, surging forward to bite down harshly. Squalo pulled away with a curse, thumbing away the blood that had risen on his lip with a strange look on his face, though his pale eyes flashed darkly.

"Squalo, _let go_." Harry said warningly, trying to get his hands free, but the silveret's right hand's grasping power was almost as strong as the left inspite of it being normal flesh and blood. His efforts only made the bone-crushing grip tighten.

The smile that crawled over Squalo's lips made Harry's breath quicken, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Watching as the man slowly licked the blood off of his thumb, he swallowed thickly, and doubled his efforts to get away before his reason and self-control decided to take a hike. Not that it did much good, since Squalo chose that moment to step forward, pressing his body flush against the wizard's. Harry breathed in sharply, staring sightlessly over the silveret's shoulder as he was firmly caged against the wall, another arm coming up to cordon him in, with Squalo's metallic left hand pressed flat against the wall right beside his head. His eyes gradually slid shut when he felt the younger man's face turn, Squalo's brow on level with his temple.

"What did you expect me to do, bitch. You're either going to kill me or drive me insane before the night's out at the rate at which we're going." The words rasped wetly against his ear, accompanied by a touch of tongue tracing over his ear ridge. He shivered against his will, biting his lip, and tested the hold around his wrists once again.

The mafioso's hold was still as strong as ever, though.

"Squalo, _please._" He whispered desperately. It was starting to get impossible to deny the heat that was pooling low in his spine. That had _been_ pooling ever since Squalo had come after him the first time he'd tried to force some sanity into the situation. The husky laughter that drummed against his skin, coupled with the taller man's proximity, only made the heat rise faster. It pulled at his nerves, cloyed at his senses and urged at him to just _give in_ already.

The thumb that languidly stroked against the soft underside of his wrist brought him back to himself, and he shuddered once, then parted his lips to speak. All that left him was a silent gasp, as Squalo nipped at his earlobe and then lazily sucked at the flesh in a mockingly apologetic gesture. He tugged at his hands again, though he hazily wondered if that was to get away from the silveret or to drag him closer into something that would be infinitely more satisfying than being plastered up close against a bloody wall.

"_Squalo-_" The name sounded harsher on his tongue now, his voice more rough than it had been a second earlier. He could feel the Italian's lips curl into a smirk against his ear, and he growled lowly, jerking his hands against the other man's hold. Surprisingly, this time he _did_ manage to get one free. He didn't even waste a second in snaking it around Squalo's throat, the once pale column now covered in light red marks left behind by him. He felt the silveret's tongue lave against his earlobe one last time before something in him snapped.

Harry noted distantly that it was much easier to drag Squalo around when he was willing to be dragged. The ease with which he had been able to haul the silveret closer to crush their lips together was something he didn't think he would be able to repeat again unless Squalo was amenable to it. The laughter that flowed through him, audible even through the roughness of the kiss as they all but tore into each other told him that Squalo would never let him live this incident down, but at the moment, he didn't give a flying fuck.

He ripped his other hand out of Squalo's grasp and fisted it at the silveret's nape, harshly dragging his head back into an angle that made it more comfortable to plunder the younger man's mouth. Squalo fought back viciously, his nails digging into the older man's shoulders before they dragged lines of fire down his back, tongue coiling fluidly against Harry's as he tried to win back lost ground, but the wizard had had enough.

When they finally broke away from one another, they were both panting harshly, one wild-eyed and the other smirking with satisfaction.

"Not too difficult to give in every once in a while, is it?" the silveret mused aloud, stepping aside nimbly when Harry threw an arm out to drag him back.

"_Fuck. You_." Harry growled, an intoxicating mix of lust and anger pounding through him. The mocking laughter that erupted from the younger man as he kept swaying just out of grasping distance only made the burning emotions coil tighter around him.

"Would you begrudge me if I said, 'Yes, gladly?" Squalo said coyly, the savage grin on his face completely at odds with his tone. The wizard was truly a sight to see - dark hair messily dishevelled, face flushed and lips swollen and bruised from their rough kisses, still glistening wetly in the white light of the few lamps that hadn't been switched off. His deep emerald green eyes, arresting even on a normal basis, looked as though a fire had been lit behind them, making them seem near hypnotic. With the intensity and fluid grace in his every step as he single-mindedly strode forward, lean muscles flexing beneath his lightly tanned skin as he tried to pin Squalo down, the Italian had to admit that older man made mindless lust look good.

When Squalo finally stopped, Harry didn't even think twice about throwing himself forward, not paying any attention to their surroundings. Anything to rip the cocky bastard apart. So, when he found himself straddling the silveret on top of the black couch in his living room, he had to take a moment to marvel at how surely Squalo had managed to get him exactly where he wanted.

"Still saying 'Yes, gladly?" he asked snidely, dragging his nails down the marble planes of the silveret's chest. Squalo tilted his head back, his smirk as smug as ever.

"And if I said yes?" he drawled, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of the older man's low-slung sweats and curling the rest of his fingers around his hips. Harry smirked, stretching languidly and delighting in the way the silveret's pale gaze drank in his figure before fluidly rolling forward in a single motion that had him leaning over the younger man, their faces a scant millimetre apart.

"Then I'd say 'Be careful what you wish for'."

Their lips met in a violent clash, frenzied and open-mouthed, all but drinking the other in. Harry dug his fingers into the couch on either side of Squalo's head, taking full advantage of his position to map out the other's mouth, tongue gliding intimately over moist, tender crevasses that had become familiar a long time ago. Squalo's tongue enticingly coiled around his, in time with the hand that crept up his back, fingers smoothing up his spine only for the nails to drag back down, scraping harshly against his skin. Harry moaned deeply in a mix of pain and pleasure, twisting a hand under Squalo's chin to tilt it up to a hard angle that he knew the other man liked, and using it to roughly thrust his tongue in, deeper, faster and sliding wetly against Squalo's before coaxing it into a sensual dance. He smirked into the kiss at the low groan that built up in the younger man's chest, then groaned himself when Squalo rocked his hips upwards.

"Impatient," he breathed, pulling back a fraction. His eyes remained locked on Squalo's darkened gaze, unwilling to look away. The smirk and words that followed his were accompanied with the hot stroke of a tongue playing across his lips, lightly dipping between them to taste their moist inner surface as the man spoke.

"No, just honest."

Harry hummed, still remotely amused. He lightly ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking, and laughed when Squalo half-rose on one elbow to repeat the gesture himself, following it with a near greedy plundering of his mouth, holding him in place with his left hand and not allowing him to reciprocate at all. When the silveret pulled back, Harry was breathing harshly, feeling more than a little light-headed.

"Lube," he rasped out, forcing himself to regulate his breathing. He knew that the other man didn't really care either way if they used it or not - hell, he actually _welcomed_ the painful edge most of the time - but he didn't want to risk hurting the silveret unnecessarily when he was already injured. Squalo's eyes were still focused on his lips - looking as though he was considering attacking his mouth again - and he managed to get a decent reaction only when he growled and rolled his hips down in a deliberate gesture. That, at least, managed to drag Squalo's attention back, seeing as he cursed and almost fell back. Harry rolled his eyes and reached out to roughly comb the silveret's fringe away from his eyes, then leant forward so that he could peer into his irate blue-grey orbs.

"We need lube," he repeated, a little more coherent this time, and wondering if he should check and see if he could track down some lotion or petroleum jelly of some sort, when Squalo snorted disbelievingly.

"You've got your fucking kitchen not two feet from the couch, and you're still _sitting here?"_ he sneered, making Harry blink, then cough, trying not to snicker.

That _was_ a bit dumb of him, in retrospect.

He leant forward to lightly brush his lips across Squalo's once more before deftly lifting himself from the couch. As he made his way towards the kitchenette, trying to clear his clouded mind enough to remember where he kept the oil, he could feel the swordsman's stare like a near physical touch, trailing over his form. Pausing in front of the right cabinet and reaching upwards to pull down the small bottle of olive oil he usually kept separate to use in his salads, he turned around to find Squalo eying him from over the backrest of the couch, face pillowed on his forearm. He couldn't help but smirk at the predatory gleam in the younger man's eyes, tightening his hold on the bottle and then prowling forward till he made it to the couch. He lightly ran the backs of his fingers down the side of the silveret's face, slowly running his thumb over the other's lower lip and drawing it down slightly. He felt Squalo's breath feather across his fingers, warm and damp, the other man's eyes shuttering as he stared up at him. The smirk that flashed across Squalo's face was the only warning he got before the swordsman reached up to catch him by the shoulders and then haul him over the back of the couch.

He went down with a yelp, crashing down on the Italian and pushing himself up on his hands right after, a horrified look appearing on his face.

"Fuck, you _idi_-!"

The hot mouth that crashed into his distracted him from being able to check if his fall had managed to worsen the younger man's wounds. Groaning as the silveret proceeded to ravage his mouth, he fisted his hands in Squalo's hair, dropping the bottle to the ground and shifting himself to a better position that allowed him to straddle the younger man again. Squalo's hands lazily smoothed over his shoulders, thumbs stroking over his collarbones before they trailed down his chest, nails dragging slightly against the toned surface before ghosting over his nipples. His breath hitched in his throat, feeling Squalo's tongue thrust particularly deep at the same time his thumbs began to stroke light circles around the nubs, making them harden. Harry groaned lowly, nipping at the younger man's lips and making him laugh.

The heat that had been pooling low in his stomach had suffused his veins pleasantly, leaving him feeling as though his blood had been replaced by some hot, molten substance. The patterns that Squalo was tracing into his skin as he moved his hands lower made him gasp, pulling away from the breath-stealing kiss to bury his face into the silveret's shoulder. The chuckles that rose from the man made him growl and sink his teeth into the pale shoulder reproachfully.

"Still as fucking sensitive as ever," Squalo murmured amusedly, voice rough, hooking his fingers back into the material of the older man's and tugging pointedly. Harry shivered and pulled himself back upright, bringing his hands to the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down and off without much thought. Squalo was still watching him with that predatory smirk, making him roll his eyes and reach out to tug at the younger man's tracks as well. Squalo wordlessly shifted his hips up obligingly, allowing the sable haired man to drag the soft material off of his lean frame. When Harry settled back on top of him, both men groaned at the full-skin contact.

"_Shit-"_ Squalo hissed, dragging the word out and rolling his hips upwards, grinding against the other man. Harry moaned and pressed an open-mouthed kiss against the younger man's chest, shuddering as the silveret's hands closed tightly around his hips and pulled him into a closer, harder contact that quickly made any blood he had left rush south. His hands easily slipped up pale skin that was starting to go slick with sweat, fingers catching slightly against the bandages wrapped around the man's abdomen, but he forced himself to ignore any unease that surfaced.

Wrapping his hands around the swordsman's biceps, and feeling the irrefutable presence of well-toned muscles shifting strongly beneath the skin, he started tracing his tongue and teeth over the chiselled lines of the man's chest. He stopped only when Squalo's hips twisted up in a practised move that made their hardened lengths slide together, already slick with precum. Harry choked back a groan, hearing the silveret curse vocally in a ragged tone, and snatched one of his hands away from Squalo's arms, blindly reaching over the side of the couch to search for the bottle of oil he'd gotten from the kitchen. With the way Squalo was rolling their hips together, he had a feeling the night would end very soon and with not nearly enough pleasure if he didn't get his act together.

By the time his fingers had closed around the diminutive bottle, the white hot heat that had been building within him had left him panting breathlessly, trembling and reaching down to close a hand over the younger man's pistoning hips.

"Fuck, _slow down-" _he groaned when Squalo twisted his legs up, the silveret's pale thighs corded with muscle framing his hips in a way that would have been obscene if it didn't feel so fucking good. He felt a warm hand cup his face, tugging him upwards, and he followed instinctively, brushing his lips against the other man's. Another hand intertwined with his over the bottle still in his grasp. While still warm, the crushing grip made it obvious that it was the left. Any more thought was washed away when Squalo did something particularly wicked with his tongue, making him gasp.

He heard a distinct cracking sound, audible even over the sounds of their vigorous movement, and he felt the cool sensation of oil spreading over his fingers. Growling into the kiss, he pulled away to scowl down at the man smirking up at him, his pale eyes nearly glittering with suppressed amusement. Harry twitched, and sank back down into an open-mouthed kiss, pulling his oil covered fingers away from Squalo's and allowing the younger man to hold on to the remains of the bottle. Fucking bratty, maddening, irreverent-

He let his thoughts spill away when Squalo twisted himself up again, shivering at the increased friction between them, and reached down, mindful of the oil still dripping from his fingers. Shit, his couch was going to be a mess once they were done-

Squalo grunted at the intrusion when he eased a single finger in. He probed gently, trying not to move too fast despite the smothering heat that tore at him when he felt the tightness of the younger man's entrance clenching around his finger, but Squalo hissed and rocked down harshly.

"Fuckin' _move,_ bitch!"

Harry groaned, pulling away to press his face against the silveret's neck, breathing heavily. A light flush had warmed the pale skin, and he brushed his lips upwards, tongue tasting the droplets of sweat that had collected at the top of the other's throat. Feeling Squalo rock down again, he moaned helplessly, and pushed in another digit, wasting no time in scissoring his fingers to work the tight ring of muscle. A hoarse groan slipped from the Italian's lips, his left arm slipping over Harry's shoulders, blunt nails digging into his skin as he held on. Harry tightened his grip on the man's hip, stopping him from grinding down again, and ignoring the crude curses that erupted from the silveret's lips.

"Masochist." He ground out, shuttering his eyes at the way the tight channel closed around his fingers. Squalo laughed sharply, the edge in his voice making it obvious that he wasn't planning on denying that claim any time soon. Hissing, Harry twisted a third finger in, working the now warmed oil around to spread it deeper. He narrowed his eyes, and crooked his fingers, searching-

The near scream that ripped out of the depths of the silveret's throat was _very_ satisfying. Grinning madly, he deliberately rubbed his fingers against that spot again, harder, still gripping at the swordsman's hip and not letting him move. The stream of frustrated expletives that poured out of the Italian's lips, most of which he sadly couldn't understand, only heightened his amusement.

Distantly hearing the soft, almost inaudible sound of glass connecting with the carpet, he was ready for the oil coated fingers that slipped between them, almost whimpering at the feel of the still-cool liquid sliding over his rigid flesh. He willingly shifted himself along with the younger man, aligning himself with the well-slicked entrance and gritting his teeth as he slowly pressed his way in. Squalo growled impatiently and, before Harry could do anything to stop him, he rolled his hips in a smooth move that had the sable haired man suddenly seated to the hilt, thrusting straight into blinding heat. Harry's lips parted in a strained, soundless gasp, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at the sudden, scorching sensation eating into his senses, surrounding him. And, Squalo didn't even give them enough time to adjust, twisting his fingers into the dark strands of Harry's hair and dragging him up to slant their mouths together in a breathless kiss, more to thrust their tongues together in a parody of the way the older man's hands were closing around his hips, holding him in place to slowly ease out, shift the angle and slide back in.

Squalo's eyes widened, and the grip his fingers had on Harry's hair tightened painfully. The older man's emerald eyes were watching him carefully, cataloguing his expressions.

"Here?"

Squalo groaned and pulled the wizard back down, not even trying to do anything more complicated than breathe harshly against his lips, allowing his fingers to slip away from the messy hair and drag down the wizard's nape, nails digging in roughly. When the older man's hands grasped at his legs, pulling them up to lock around the wizard's back and lifting him higher, his head tipped back, eyes glazing over with how deep the thrusts were going. Harry's hands were like a vice against his skin, thumbs dragging roughly over the curve of his hip bones as the man set a steady rhythm that had him slamming into that electric spot with each thrust.

"Faster, damn you-" he growled, rocking his hips upwards powerfully and meeting the thrusts pace for pace, shivering when Harry's teeth bit down reproachfully at the junction of his shoulder and neck. Another shift of his hips, and the teeth bit down harder, this time to hide the groan that he had managed to wring out of the other man. As the speed of their thrusts increased, Squalo harshly dragged his nails down the older man's back, smirking at the slickness under his fingers that was more than sweat. The smirk quickly gave way to a gasp when Harry bit down hard enough to draw blood.

"Quit that." Harry gritted out, licking away the crimson drops his teeth had drawn forth. The mafioso laughed darkly, digging his nails in harder.

"Yeah? I don't see you complaining."

Harry shuddered, not really wanting to admit that he enjoyed the twisted blurring of the line between pain and pleasure almost as much as Squalo did. The damning taste of copper in his mouth said otherwise, though. Growling, he dug his nails into the younger man's glutes and rammed in at a particularly vicious angle that had Squalo crying out. The near-scream was like a jolt that went straight to his groin, and Harry moaned, defeatedly closing his teeth back on the already abused flesh and snaking a hand down between their bodies, wanting to give in to the melting heat that was blurring the edges of his sight before they both tore each other apart.

It didn't take much, only a few hard pulls of his sweat-soaked fingers over the other man's hardened flesh before Squalo's body clamped down on him like a vice, ripping out a broken moan that was stifled against the silveret's throat. He could have sworn that everything had gone white for one breath-stopping moment, and he couldn't hear anything except for the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, couldn't feel anything except for the burning body coiled near seamlessly around his own. Couldn't taste anything except for the strains of copper coating his lips, and the pulse beating out a tattoo below his tongue.

When they'd finally wound down from the orgasmic high, Harry pulled himself up with a curse, ignoring the irate groan that fell from the swordsman's parted lips. He tersely surveyed the debauched picture Squalo made, lying bonelessly against the plush couch, hair messily rippling out all around him and with semen smeared across his toned stomach, almost reaching the bandages wrapped high around his abdomen. The wizard felt the sharp sting of guilt work through him when he saw the red staining the once spotless white gauze. His eyes shot back up when Squalo flexed the muscles still closed around his now softened length languidly, biting back a curse at the sudden friction against his oversensitive flesh. Squalo slowly pushed himself up on one elbow, roughly running his left hand through his hair and pulling it back from his face. The action only drew the older man's eyes to the bruised and torn spot at the base of the other man's throat. Blanching at the sight of light stains of red still clinging to the skin, he leant forward to apologetically lave his tongue over the wound, cleaning away the coppery fluid. Squalo stiffened immediately, and Harry felt a light shiver flow through the other man. A quickly cooling hand softly settled against the side of his neck, holding him close as he continued to clean the area with his tongue.

"Fuck, Potter, don't do that if you don't want me to get interested again…"

The words were murmured lowly, the younger man's voice rough with a want that hadn't really burnt away, and Harry couldn't help the shiver that ran through him as well. Licking at the wound one last time, he carefully pulled himself out of the warm body cradling his, swallowing dryly at the sensation of the tight passage locking around him for a beat before he withdrew completely. He slid his hands down the silveret's thighs, cringing when his right hand slid over the bandages wrapped around the wound on the other man's left leg, but he was relieved to see that the thigh wound hadn't bled out as much at the other one had. The hand on his neck tilted his face back up, and he barely managed to take in the irritable glint warring with satiation in the younger man's eyes before Squalo lazily brushed their parted lips together, his tongue gliding out to taste the coppery tang still permeating Harry's mouth. Shuddering, Harry sank into the slow, sultry kiss that ended only when Squalo shifted back slightly.

"You really _do_ think too-fucking-much." He breathed, close enough for Harry to feel his breath against his mouth, their lips brushing together with each word. The wizard smirked slightly, a little amused at the off-hand affection the younger man was showing. Very unlike him, but Harry couldn't say that he wasn't enjoying it.

"Can you blame me?" he shot back easily. Squalo's eyes glittered dangerously as his fingers tightened their hold on the Harry's throat.

"No, but I _can_ get irritated." He said in a cool tone, his acidic temper just waiting to rear its head. Harry laughed, unable to stop his mind from likening the man to a sudden downpour, harsh enough to strip skin from flesh.

"Sure, go ahead. Don't let me stop you." The wizard said cannily. Squalo snorted, leaning in to nip at his lips before pulling away completely, twisting himself adroitly and setting his feet back on the ground. The other man continued to watch him silently, and immediately picked up on the slight wince that momentarily appeared on his face. He pursed his lips, but didn't call any attention to it, knowing that Squalo would only flare up if he did.

"Need to get ourselves cleaned up. And it would be a good idea to change those bandages, too." He offered quietly. Squalo shot him an appraising look before rolling his eyes and lifting himself from the couch.

"Whatever, bitch. Just quit your whining."

Harry smirked and swiftly got up himself, following the other man towards the bathroom. With Squalo, that was all the acquiescence he was going to get.

* * *

Feeling something nudging at his shoulder, Harry grunted something incoherently and rolled over, trying to get away from whatever it was. The nudging wasn't willing to stop though. Sighing grumpily, he peeked blearily over his shoulder, squinting against the light that was pouring in from somewhere. What the hell? There wasn't supposed to be this much sunlight, his windows faced _west_…

When he caught sight of the silveret smirking down at him from over the back of the couch, the memories of the previous night quickly came back to him. Groaning, he buried his face back into the soft darkness of his couch.

"Shut the blinds over the kitchen windows, you bloody git…" he mumbled. Squalo snickered and moved away from the couch, hopefully to do just that.

After hurriedly cleaning themselves off and then rewrapping Squalo's bandages at a more sedate pace, they had both headed back to the living room to track down their clothes. In Harry's case, more to see if he could salvage his couch and carpet without having to resort to muggle methods. Thankfully, magic had proven to be as much a boon as it usually was in similar situations. They'd both simply crashed in the couch afterwards, not really bothering to head back towards the bedrooms. Harry was partially regretting that decision now, his back reminding him rather painfully that he wasn't exactly a sprightly teenager anymore.

"Woke you up to get a hold of that nutrient shit that you were talking about yesterday."

He blinked tiredly, and levered himself upwards on his arms, pouting at Squalo when he caught the Italian watching him with laughing eyes.

"You're making me think. Without any caffeine. When I'm still _sleepy._ What kind of monster _are_ you?" he asked waspishly. The laughter that bubbled from the other man as he sagged back against the counter might have appealed to him on any other day but, at the moment, all it did was make him feel crankier.

"I'm serious!" he snapped. Squalo waved a hand towards the interior of the kitchen, his shoulders still shaking suspiciously.

"You haven't changed one fucking bit," he snickered. Harry growled back him and dragged himself off of the couch, stumbling towards the kitchen. More importantly, towards the coffeemaker. Ah, coffee. Caffeinated coffee. Ambrosia of the Gods. Magic was _nothing_ in comparison.

Most mornings, he didn't need it all that much. But, sometimes, he was a lost cause without a couple cups of the sludge going down his throat. A fucking army of dark wizards being led by a (re-)resurrected Voldemort could attack him, and he'd probably ignore them till he was injected with a bit of caffeine.

Cheerfully sipping at the strong black coffee that had been waiting for him in the kitchen, just as cold as he liked it, he nodded absently when Squalo said that he was going in to find a shirt. He was in the process of blithely guzzling down the second steaming mug-full when the doorbell rang. Figuring that Squalo wouldn't be coming out just to answer the door, he made his way to it instead, still feeling drowsy.

Once he had turned the lock and pulled it open, he blinked in surprise when he saw a familiar, golden-brown haired figure waiting for him on the other side.

"'Mione. Morning?" he offered bemusedly. Hermione smiled up at him, obviously amused.

"Good Morning. Looks like it was a good idea of mine to come by with the draught."

Ah.

"Yeah, I guess. Squalo had been asking about it." He muttered, lifting his mug up to take another sip and turning around to walk back inside, expecting Hermione to follow him in and shut the door behind herself. When he didn't hear the sound of the lock automatically clicking shut, though, he glanced over his shoulder, bemused. Hermione was still standing exactly where he'd left her, gaping at his back. He blinked confusedly, looking down at himself. Well, yes, he _was_ shirtless, but it wasn't like Hermione hadn't seen him like that before… No, wait. Hadn't Squalo…?

Oh, _shit_.

"Harry?" she whispered, voice nearly bleeding with disbelief. He cringed, quickly turning to face her again, but it didn't really make much of a difference. Now that she knew what to look for, the signs were all too visible. He opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words. What the hell was he supposed to say? A lie wouldn't cut it; the brunette was far too intelligent for that. And he didn't want to demean her intelligence by lying.

"Potter? Who was that at the door?"

His fingers tightened reflexively around the still warm coffee mug, drawing some marginal comfort from that warmth when he saw her eyes beginning to go wide, no doubt starting to put two and two together and somehow getting eight. She'd had all the facts, after all. Just not the last, and the biggest, one.

Which he'd just handed to her on a platter, readied along with a butcher's knife.

It wasn't until he felt Squalo's presence emerging from the bedroom, though, that he actually saw the rage beginning to rise in her gaze.

And he couldn't stop himself from looking away.

* * *

And, here's the second part, surprisingly out at around the time I promised. Yes, a cliffhanger. There had to be one at some point, right?

Also, lemon! The first one I've ever written, so I hope it's come out ok. If not, I guess the quality should build up as I write them… Any suggestions will be accepted gladly. Thanks for the reviews that came in for the first half; it's great to see that everyone still likes my version of Ron so much. Any comments on Hermione?

The next chapter may be a bit dicey to get out, since I'm not happy with what I have so far. It should be smoothed out eventually, but at the moment, I'm not satisfied and so it's not going to get posted. At any rate, hope you all enjoyed this one.

Until next time.

**Review! **Give Harry some more courage to stand up to Hermione.


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer **- I own neither Harry Potter nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn. Both are amazing series in their own right, and belong to the people who thought them up. I'm just… messing around with the characters for my own amusement.

**Rating - **PG-13

**WARNINGS **- Slash, Het, infidelity, swearing, dark-ish themes.

**Timeline - **The timeframe will make sense as the story continues. Major changes with regard to both KHR timelines and HP canon. In KHR, the cradle affair lasted for a shorter period than the 8 years mentioned in the manga. And, for HP, just assume that everyone in HP canon was born two years earlier. In other words, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all born in 1978 rather than 1980, and Ginny was born in 1979.

**NOTE: **The fate of Kreacher after the Battle for Hogwarts is turning out to be rather vague. From the information available, some say that he worked at Hogwarts after the war, others say that he worked for the Potter family, and in some cases some wonder if he actually survived at all. I'm sticking with him having gone into Harry's service after the war.

**Soundtrack - **

_Shiro Sagisu – Never Meant to Belong_

_Saliva – Weight of the World  
_

_VAST – Touched  
_

_Beirut – Scenic World_

_Emilie Autumn – Manic Depression_

_The Pierces – Secret_

_Saliva – Famous Monsters_

_Cat Power – Metal Heart_

_Bat for Lashes – Horse and I_

_1997 – Curse or Cure_

_Collide – White Rabbit_

_Apocalyptica – Path vol. 2 (Feat. Sandra Nasic)_

_P.O.D. – Sleeping Awake_

* * *

**AN 1:** It Lives!

* * *

**Serendipity  
**

**Chapter 6**

"_Would you believe me if I told you that Harry cheated on Ginny?"_

_I looked up from my book, blinking for a moment, and waited for the thought to actually get through the haze clouding my mind. However much I believed that house elves needed to be given their legal rights, the process of actually going through data to support my case was proving to be utterly mind-numbing. Not that either Harry or Ron would ever succeed in making me admit to the thought, of course._

_Once the statement actually registered, I was hard-pressed not to laugh._

"_Are we still talking about the same Harry here?" I asked amusedly, carefully pressing the aged tome shut and looking over my shoulder to smile at Ron. He had just stepped out of the fireplace, and was dusting soot out of his mussed up hair. He paused for a moment, and gave me a slow smile in return._

"_Probably not. Funny thought, isn't it?"_

_I finally gave in to the urge to laugh, and never thought to question how strained the smile looked on his face. Or how closed his usually mirth filled eyes had become._

x

To be honest, Hermione didn't know what was more damning about the tableau in front of her. The raw, pink ridges she had seen on Harry's back, or the fact that Harry hadn't been willing to meet her eyes since he had turned back around to face her.

She felt strangely numb, as though the situation hadn't really sunk in yet. A fleeting thought in the far reaches of her mind told her that she _didn't_ want the situation to sink in. Not really. Not when it had caused Harry to go still, face blank with his shoulders hunched up and tense, standing with his head bowed against some unknown enemy. So clearly guilt-ridden that she couldn't even _begin_ to convince herself that she was jumping to conclusions.

It was ironic, the way the perfectly constructed structure of your world could seem so fragile when the smallest of details went awry. Her world was relatively simple – she had a live-in relationship with a man she loved dearly, her best friend was also the best friend of her lover, and said best friend was engaged to her lover's younger sister. Easy.

Not so easy when she realised that her best friend had been keeping life changing secrets from her. Like the fact that he was… was…

A shudder coursed down her spine. She wasn't sure if it was because of anger or confusion - or even revulsion, rearing up from some primal space within her, unable to understand _why_ Harry was doing something like this to himself.

When her thoughts slowly turned towards the other, missing half of the equation, her fingers involuntarily tightened over the vial that was still grasped between her fingers. Merlin, how could she had been blind enough to miss all the subtle hints that she had seen the night before? There had been enough for her to catch, and that was completely ignoring the fact that Harry hadn't wanted his fiancée around when Superbi was in town.

_(And the way Ron had acted whenever Superbi was around or was brought up in conversation, later, but she wasn't thinking about that. She _wasn't._)_

Her earlier shudder was repeated, except this time, it was accompanied by a lick of rage that was all too tempting to give in to. She ruthlessly shoved it down, and did her best to look at the situation analytically. Since her mind was the only stronghold she had left, at this point.

But how ever many times she called the facts up to herself, she _still_ couldn't comprehend what possessed Harry to cheat on the woman he had loved so very much since he had been sixteen.

The hot burst of anger that ignited in her gut at that thought was disconcerting. She tried to will it away, but nothing she did was soothing her mind. This wasn't the time for blind rage. This was the time for logic_,_ rationality, facts, a steady understanding of the situation, and-and-and-

By _God_, she wanted to deck her idiot of a friend. Lay into him, and make him hurt as much as her brain was right now. Shake him wildly until answers came tumbling out, along with some kind of explanation for his behaviour, _any_ kind. Because, how ever much this situation was making her ache inside, she _knew_ that it couldn't even _begin _to come close to what Ginny would feel if this ever came to light.

But inspite of everything, despite the white hot anger that made her fingers curl into fists, she knew that she would never be able to strike the man. Not because she was afraid of hurting him, and not even because she was afraid of any retaliation on his part. No, she would never be able to punch him because he was her _friend_, and damn it, friends _listened_ to each other, and at least tried to _understand_ a situation before they blew up in each other's faces.

No matter how infuriating or painful said situation was.

Taking a steadying breath, she tried to figure out what to say without railing like a madwoman. But, the sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the corridor from somewhere behind her, coinciding with the sound of Superbi's voice calling out from deeper within the apartment immediately ripped her attention away. And, somehow, in the gut-wrenching seconds that followed, she wasn't at all surprised that her first instinct had been to somehow protect Harry from Ron's all-consuming wrath once the volatile redhead figured out what was going on.

And then, all of a sudden, it was like the unnatural stillness of the world around them had decided to fall to pieces, reality abruptly kick-starting itself. Ron appeared behind her – fingers curling around the doorjamb and gasping for breath – at the same time as Superbi, who smoothly stepped out of the corridor leading to the bedrooms, still in the process of languidly slipping on a white shirt

Both men paused at the same instant, Ron looming behind her like some kind of giant, while Superbi's arms slowly lowered, his pale eyes as sharp as a blade while he swiftly took in the building tension in the room. She had to hand it to her sable haired friend; at least he had the good sense to involve himself with someone with a halfway decent brain - wherever it was buried underneath all that silver hair.

"Hah…"

The breath exhaled roughly over her head sounded like a sigh and an oath, all at the same time. She wondered distantly why it hadn't sounded more surprised, or angry, or _something_ other than the blankness that it conveyed. She started when she felt Ron's hand drop heavily onto her shoulder, radiating warmth and giving some comfort in a situation that was beginning to seem more unbelievable by the second. Her eyes narrowed reflexively when Superbi silently glided forward, stopping a few steps behind Harry. She was quick to note the way her friend's fingers tightened near-imperceptibly over the coffee mug still in his grasp, though his knuckles went white.

"…Ever heard of _control,_ you two?"

She blinked once, momentarily disoriented, then stiffened in shock after the words registered. She tried to pull away from the fingers twisted over her shoulder, but the warm hand that had previously felt like her only tether to reality had mutated into a vice, stopping her from moving in any way.

Her skin crawled at the harsh bark of laughter that tore out of the man standing behind her friend; her eyes rounded, unable to leave the sight of the Italian just _standing there_, with the most unapologetic expression she had ever seen on anyone's face to date.

"I'll take that as a no, then." And, _Merlin_, but she'd never heard Ron sound like this before. At least, not when he was around her. Cold, sharp, and vaguely amused with a febrile heat burning just below the surface.

It made her feel sick to the stomach, with an insufferably cold feeling sliding down her spine to sit sickly in her gut, like a leaden weight.

"You _knew_ about this?" the words escaped her lips almost soundlessly, her emotions far past the realm of disbelief and swiftly heading towards denial. His hand squeezed down slowly – not even close to the comfort it had given her earlier – before he pushed her forward. She felt herself sway inside, still in shock, hearing more than seeing him step in after her, carelessly tugging the door shut behind him.

The sound of the lock clicking shut seemed unnaturally loud in the charged atmosphere of the room, and she couldn't stop herself from wincing. With her mind still floundering somewhere between denial, shock and horrified realisation, she allowed herself to be propelled forward towards the chairs spread out around the multi-purpose counter bordering the kitchen. Catching a glimpse of movement from the corner of her eye, she peered around Ron's solid frame to stare as Superbi first stepped closer to Harry, then dropped the shirt that he had been wearing onto her friend's shoulders, murmuring something softly to him in an undertone. Before she could see anymore, Ron smoothly shifted in to block her sight. When she looked up to frown at him, she was unnerved to see the grimly amused glint in his eyes. It disturbed her enough to wordlessly let him deposit her in a chair, though it didn't stop her from swatting at his hands irately when he tried to turn the chair inwards to face the kitchen.

"How long has this been going on?" her words cut out roughly, but even the caustic quality of the words wasn't enough to stop the confused pain thrumming within her from spilling out ever so slightly into her voice.

There was no answer.

Her fingers clenched reflexively, though her eyes didn't move away from where they had locked sightlessly onto Ron's muscled torso, and she shook with the effort of holding back the rawness of the emotion that was slowly bubbling up.

"How long has this been going on?" she repeated, raising her voice so that it rang out mercilessly through the room.

"Would 'long enough' be an acceptable answer?"

She stiffened, and her eyes shot up to lock fiercely onto Superbi's form. He had comfortably sidled in to stand beside Ron, still wearing the shirt he had tried to force on Harry before, staring down at her with an oddly appraising expression shifting across his face before it went blank.

"I didn't ask you," she hissed out at him. The bastard had the audacity to snort in amusement, his eyes sliding to the side to eye Ron for a moment before drifting back to her.

"You didn't exactly address that to anyone in particular, you know," he threw back blandly. She had to stop herself from baring her teeth in some primitively barbaric display in response.

Hermione had always known that she had a typically 'Gryffindor-ical' short fuse lurking somewhere beneath her more scholarly tendencies, but she had never realised just _how _short it could get until this situation - Superbi was pushing all the right buttons to make her want to scream instead of looking at things practically.

"Where'd Harry go?" she asked belatedly, looking up at Ron for an answer, but the redhead shrugged rather lackadaisically, the sharp humour in his eyes and form seemingly having evaporated when Superbi had stepped up beside him. Yet another reason to get angry with Superbi for being here, then. But, if she was reading that shrug correctly…

She frowned up at the redhead in frustration, just wishing that he would meet her eyes, instead of silently conveying that he wasn't planning on taking sides in this.

"He went in to get some clothes on," Superbi said in a mockingly helpful tone. "You _did_ notice that you managed to catch him when he'd just woken up?"

Oh, she _had_ noticed that. All too well. She just didn't know whether catching him unawares was good or bad, seeing as if she _hadn't_ caught her friend right after he had woken up, she would never have seen the marks on his back. Ergo, she would never have figured out that he was involved with Superbi. Or, at least, she wouldn't have figured it out quite so soon. She was certain that she would have figured it out at some point in the future, even without _that_ considerable piece of evidence.

Looking back at the Italian lounging against the counter, she stared hard, honestly wondering what about the man had been special enough that Harry had decided to have _anything_ to do with him. And, that was another thing that had been bothering her – she'd been quite certain that Harry was interested only in _women_. She might have gone as far to say that he was interested only in _Ginny_, for that matter, but there _had_ been Cho, back when they'd been in school. And, it wasn't like she hadn't seen him and Ron smirking after any particularly striking women that happened to pass by…

But, she had known that those kinds of reactions weren't going anywhere, and that they weren't any more than 'aesthetic' appreciation - to put it politely. They had all been together long enough for her to completely trust the both of them, which is why this-this _thing_ with Superbi had blindsided her so completely.

When she noticed a pale, long fingered hand waving in front of her face, she started back in surprise, glaring at Superbi when he pulled his hand back with a smirk.

"How long is 'long enough'?" she bit out, not letting the expression on the Italian's face distract her. She heard Ron sigh, and settle into a seat on her other side, but she didn't look away. Superbi stared right back at her, and she caught a quick shift of emotion over his face before it went blank again, leaving nothing but a smirk that seemed strangely hollow, without any emotion backing it up.

"Long enough… is _long enough_," he repeated in a lazy drawl, eyes glinting slightly. She frowned at him, vexed, and was about to ask again, when she was interrupted.

"It's okay, Squalo. I wasn't planning on hiding anything."

Hermione went stiff instantly, and twisted around to watch as Harry first walked up to the counter, then sidled through into the kitchen. She didn't let her eyes leave his tee-shirt covered back; watching as he slowly poured himself another cup of coffee.

"You know, you've really got a thing for staring at people."

Her eyes immediately shifted towards Superbi, narrowing dangerously. The choking sound coming from both Harry _and_ Ron did nothing to make her soften her expression.

"I do_ not_ have a 'thing' for staring at people." She ground out, twitching slightly when the Italian's lips parted in a truly frightening grin. Her attention had been completely focused on whatever the man had been about to say, so she was understandably startled when Harry leaned in between them to press a hand to the silveret's shoulder.

"Squalo." He muttered, and she was surprised to hear the thin vein of amusement in his voice. She _knew_ that tone. It meant that Harry would have been _laughing_, if the situation hadn't been so tense.

"What?"

"Stop teasing her."

She blinked. What in the _world_?

Hearing the soft cough from behind her, she looked over her shoulder, and was even more surprised to see the small grin on Ron's face. Really, _what_ had just happened?

"I'm not teasing her."

And Superbi sounded strangely amused himself, the grin still painted across his face. Harry rolled his eyes and swatted the Italian across the back, ignoring his irate squawk to turn and face her instead.

Hermione felt a strange twinge of satisfaction when she saw the set of his shoulders. At least she could see her friend somewhere in there now – the unease and guilt from earlier had _not_ been what the man she knew would show.

"How long is 'long enough'?" she asked again, expectant. Harry didn't let his gaze drop, the light in his eyes all too serious.

"Long enough… is actually a difficult question to answer. Long enough… as in, how long have I known Squalo, or how long we've been, well…" he trailed off, looking a little embarrassed, but unrepentant. Hermione couldn't quite hold back a snort; she was still angry, _very_ angry, but the situation seemed so ridiculous that she couldn't help but feel at least a little amused, however reluctant.

"Aren't both those answers technically the same?" Ron cut in, making Superbi actually laugh out loud.

"_Vooooi_, you know about Taiwan, too? Why the fuck am I not surprised."

"Well, I didn't exactly know a damn thing about him in Taiwan, so I don't think that counts." Harry shot back. She stared at her sable haired friend, watching in fascination as a light flush broke out over his face.

"Why don't you just give me both answers?" she suggested. Harry finally winced, and looked down, while Superbi gave her a wide smirk.

"Well, the thing in Taiwan happened about… four years ago." Superbi put up a hand to forestall any interruptions on her part, very likely because of the horrified expression that must have crept onto her face.

"Like Harry said, though, we really didn't know a fucking thing about each other back then. And it was messed up." He paused and glanced over his shoulder at Harry, who sighed and looked back up to meet her gaze.

"Messed up, as in, we were attacked by a large group of Triad grunts, he saved my life…"

"And we fell into bed later, but I think you must have figured out that part yourself." Superbi continued, swaying away from the hands that reached out to swat at him. Harry turned his face slightly to take a peek at her face, then flinched, and quickly looked away again. He shouldered on, though, obviously having resigned himself to explaining the entirety of the odd relationship he had with the Italian.

"We ran into each other again back when I'd been in Sicily for some work three years ago, though. _That's_ when we actually got to know anything about each other."

Hermione first blinked, and then, her eyes went wide.

"Wait… Are you talking about that trip where you disappeared for ten days without so much as staying in touch with anyone?"

"Yeah, that's the one." Harry answered, smiling faintly, while Superbi gave a low snort. Hermione stared at him, feeling something that felt very much like nausea spreading through her system, as she looked from one man to the other. She didn't even need to ask if Superbi was the reason Harry hadn't stayed at the place Ginny had arranged - the answer was already apparent.

"But… didn't you say that trip was - that you were doing a favour for-" she broke off the sentence, dropping her gaze to Superbi and _staring_ at him, almost as though she could stare _through_ him and possibly into his head as well.

"Yeah, I was doing a favour for the Vongola Family's head on that trip." Harry completed, not budging an inch when she turned her very disturbed sights on him.

She was actually hesitant to ask him anything else. She wasn't very sure if she wanted to get an answer – or a clarification, for that matter, since she got the feeling that she'd already figured outthe answer to the question she wanted to ask.

Superbi answered it without her even needing to ask, though.

"Yes, Granger. I _am_ a part of the Vongola Famiglia."

His voice was coldly amused, and far too calculating for comfort. As were his eyes, for that matter; a pair of icy, pale blue lasers focused on her face. This time, when she twitched, she could feel it travel through her entire system. And the nausea that was creeping up on her only got worse. Because, if Superbi was a member of the Vongola Family, and if Harry had stayed with him during the time he had been in Sicily, that meant… that Ron…

Had known the entire time.

Ron had known about the fact that Harry had been cheating on his younger sister, had known who Superbi was, and had- had _lied_ to her, to _Ginny_, to anyone and everyone that had asked after Harry when Ron had returned from his mission in Italy.

"We haven't seriously been seeing each other or anything, though."

She blinked once, twice, trying to clear her vision and look back at the sable haired man standing on the other side of the counter. Harry was staring down at the counter, but Superbi was staring straight at her, looking as though he knew _exactly_ what was running through her head. She shivered, feeling oddly exposed.

She blinked again, trying to pay attention to what Harry was saying, since what he was saying was at least a _little_ more important than the fact that he was shagging a _mafioso_.

"It's only been an on and off thing, you can't even call it an _affair_, if that's what you were expecting. I mean, this is the first time I've seen Squalo in _three years_."

The way Superbi was smirking looked _far_ too self-satisfied. Almost as though it didn't make a difference _whatever_ Harry thought, and-

"So…"

She started, and stared up into the dark, emerald green eyes that were staring into her own, waiting for some kind of verdict. She swallowed slowly, and stood up.

Harry must have seen _something_ in the blankness of her face, because he went pale, straightening immediately.

"Hermione-"

"Don't, Harry. I need some time to absorb this."

When Ron started to straighten himself, she turned a dark look on him, making him go still, a wary expression flashing across his face before it subsided into the earlier inscrutable look he had been affecting.

With that, she spun around and headed for the front door, not stopping until she had wrenched it open and stepped out. She did pause there for a moment, though, and glanced over her shoulder to eye Superbi and then, in turn, Harry. Superbi looked thoroughly amused with the proceedings, but Harry looked sick to the stomach -something she could empathise with. She gave him a tight smile.

"Don't worry; I'm not planning on telling Ginny anything. But, for Merlin's sake, Harry. _Get your act together."_

She slammed the door shut, and then, forced herself to walk away.

Because, more than trying to get her head around the fact that Harry was involved with someone other than his fiancée, not to mention that it was a 'someone else' who was very _male,_ she needed to get away from what the conversation inside had brought up.

She needed to get_ away_ from Ron. And the fact that he had been willing to lie so thoroughly, to _her_, about their best friend.

x

"She's gone."

Squalo glanced up and back at the sable haired wizard standing frozen behind him, and rolled his eyes.

"Get over it, Potter. She doesn't have anything against you. If anything, she's more freaked out because I'm in the mafia."

"No. She was definitely worried about that, but I think she was focusing more on the fact that I didn't tell her what was going on with you two, even though I knew."

Squalo's eyes narrowed slightly, and he shifted his eyes from Harry and over to the Weasley sitting to his left. The agent had a pained look on his face, and was staring listlessly down at dark wood of the counter. Harry didn't say anything, though he made a wounded sound that made Squalo want to groan out loud.

Why, exactly, was he here again?

"Weasley, if you think she's got a problem with you, then fucking _go_ after her and set it straight."

The redhead stiffened, and when his eyes rose up from the counter, Squalo just _had_ to smirk in appreciation at the harsh heat burning in his gaze. He raised an eyebrow, all but daring the man to say something. Ron growled lowly at him in response, and then pushed himself up and off the chair - though he paused a beat before heading towards the door.

"Harry, don't forget about the lunch plans at my place. Fleur's coming over, and she won't be happy if you're not there. Especially not after Ginny told her about you having a friend over; you _know_ she'll want to be introduced."

"Fleur?" Squalo repeated curiously, turning slightly so that he could look up at the man standing behind him without looking over his shoulder continuously. Harry still looked dead on his feet, and all too pale, but he shook himself and slowly reached for his long forgotten cup of coffee.

"Friend of ours. Also Ron's older brother's wife. And very insistent on meeting up with friends of the family; she won't be very happy with me if I don't introduce you to her."

"So I've gone from being your dirty little secret to the family friend, now?" he asked amusedly, reaching up to run two fingers down the side of the older man's face. Harry went still, cup grasped tightly in his hands as his eyes shot to where Ron was stepping out the door, but he leaned into the light touch all the same.

"Very funny, Squalo. We'll be there, Ron."

"You had better be, because I'm not bloody well covering for you. Not when Hermione's already pissed enough at me."

The door banged shut a second time, making Squalo grin while Harry winced.

"My door's being put through the ringer today," he muttered in an undertone.

"Your door's not the only one." the silveret replied idly, eying the wizard's haggard expression contemplatively. Harry gave a mirthless snort, taking a small sip of the coffee before making a revolted face and banging it back onto the counter. He wordlessly ran his fingers over the rim of the cup, and Squalo made an interested sound, watching as the dark liquid in the mug began to steam.

"It's faster this way. Coffee's the one thing I'm willing to abuse my privileges as wizard on, at least in the morning. I don't need to lose time waiting for it to get heated in the microwave."

"Figures. It's all about the coffee for you, isn't it?" Squalo mused, smoothly reaching in to snatch the mug away and down a sip before Harry could consider lifting it. Smirking at the glower being shot at him, he kept his fingers tight around the ceramic container, unwilling to let it go without a fight. It wasn't like he couldn't get a mug of his own, and he didn't even lust after caffeine as much as the wizard did, but the expression on the older man's face was well worth the effort.

"So. Any plans for today? I was given two days to finish the mission, but I already cleared out the people I'd been sent after. And I've only got a flight booked for tomorrow morning…"

The blank look on Harry face was more than a little amusing. Squalo shrugged, and knocked back another sip of the quickly cooling coffee he was holding hostage. The sable haired wizard reached out, trying to wrest the mug away, but Squalo easily avoided his outstretched hands.

"After all that, do you really think I'm focusing on a plan to_ go out?_" Harry asked snidely, making the silveret snigger.

"Oh, I don't know. It might give you something else to think about."

"The only thing I want to think about right now is coffee. And may be bed, since I'd like to hide away from the world for a couple hours before I have to face 'Mione again…"

"Bed's always a good plan." Squalo drawled, twisting slightly to keep the coffee mug away from the wizard, and smirking up at him when he leant as far over the counter as he could, trying to get the mug back.

Harry paused, one hand pressed to the wooden surface in front of him to balance himself, only just noticing how close he'd inadvertently managed to bring himself to the silveret. Most of his torso was hanging over the counter and above Squalo, one arm stretched far out and fingers only just skimming the mug holding his panacea, and their faces were separated by barely a hair's breadth. Breathing in deeply, he slowly pulled back to give the other man an exasperated look.

Not that he wasn't tempted to laugh, of course. The damned idiot was far too gifted at distracting people – whether they wanted to be distracted or not.

"Is that all you think about?" he asked amusedly, hiding the instinctive twitch that went through him when the Italian took another sip from his mug. _His._

The gleam of amusement in Squalo's eyes told him that he hadn't been all that successful at hiding it, though.

"Not necessarily. But, we've got time, and you're barely awake-"

"Quit that." Harry warned, raising a hand to ward the man off when he stood up and leant closer, an irrepressible smirk tugging at his lips.

"Quit what?" Squalo countered, smirk only broadening when he felt the older man's fingers curl involuntarily into his shirt. Harry growled up at him, caught between laughing and scowling.

"_That_."

"_What."_ Squalo countered, lowering his face and just about brushing their lips together while he spoke. He felt Harry's fingers tighten minutely before the wizard managed to shove him away.

"At any rate, I have a better idea." Harry said cryptically, turning away to get himself another mug, and pointedly ignoring the sniggers escaping the mafioso leaning over the counter behind him.

"Oh, really."

"Yes, really." He finally decided on one of the Gryffindor red-and-gold mugs that someone had got him as a gag present, tugging it out and then he turned around to lean back against the inner counter behind him. Squalo's eyebrows were raised, and he looked surprisingly curious, despite himself. Harry tilted his head to the side, and didn't even _try_ to hide the grin that was threatening to break out on his face.

"Let's go visit my godson."

x

Harry might have wondered if this was as much of a good idea as it had seemed when he had first considered it, but the disbelieving expression on Squalo's face had made the entire debacle worthwhile. Trying to control the strange, bubbling feeling of laughter welling up inside him, he shot the younger man a broad grin as he stepped out of the car.

"Godson. We're going to visit your _godson._ Potter, I offer you _hours_ of mind-blowing sex, possibly right up until Weasley tried to drag us away to his place for 'lunch with the family', and you turn it down to visit you fucking _godson?_"

"…Yes?" Harry answered slowly, smiling impishly at the disgusted look that was shot in his direction. And if the look weren't enough, he could still hear Squalo grumbling and cursing under his breath in Italian, even as he stepped up the stairs leading to the house in front of him. Standing on the porch while pressing the doorbell, he found himself struggling to rein his amusement in.

"I'm supposed to be the _dirty little secret_, the guy you're having a scandalous, illicit affair with. Can't you see something at least a _little _wrong with this picture, Potter?"

"No, not really. Why?" Harry might have felt slighted - _if_ he thought the younger man meant even half the things he was saying. On the contrary, however mulish and irate Squalo was acting, Harry had detected a hint of curiosity in the mafioso ever since he had mentioned the existence of his godson.

He wasn't mistaking the curiosity for anything other than what it was, of course. The thought of Squalo having any kind of affection for kids was… remotely disturbing. He couldn't see any of the Varia squad heads that he had heard about having any kind of fondness for children brought up outside the shadow of the mafia – from their reputations, it was unlikely that any of them had the patience to suffer fools. Or, in this case, suffer squalling brats that had been raised in warm, soft and innocence-filled environments.

Children that had already been blooded in the violence-soaked atmosphere that the mafia was infamous for, on the other hand...

When the door finally swung open, Harry was already prepared for the child-sized bullet that attacked his legs. He heard Squalo make an interested sound, and felt more than saw the taller man step up behind him. Squalo peered over his shoulder, some of the unbound silver-white strands of his hair slipping forward heavily.

He looked almost morbidly curious. Like a kid stumbling upon a dead animal and then deciding to poke it with a stick.

"Harry!"

"Hey, Teddy." Harry chirped, bending down and hoisting up the now black-haired and green eyed boy up with the ease of long familiarity.

The black hair didn't last for long, of course. Not after his godson noticed Squalo staring at him. Teddy gawped back, and his hair went from messy black to feathery silver faster than you could say 'metamorphmagus'.

…or, more appropriately in this case, faster than you could say 'hello'. Teddy looked too tongue-tied to say anything, so Harry had to deal with one head of silver hair being shyly snuggled away between his neck and shoulder, while the other was beginning to look supremely amused.

"Can't say I was expecting that," Squalo drawled, making Harry smirk.

"I would have been very suspicious if you _had_ been expecting this. Seeing as I haven't mentioned Teddy to anyone in Italy yet."

"Not even to the Ninth?" the mafioso asked, expression not shifting an inch. Harry was reluctantly impressed.

"No. Not even to Timoteo."

They were interrupted before Harry could think of anything else to say. He was strangely relieved – because, really, what else could he say to something like that. And, also, he didn't want to think through his decision to introduce a well known and rather infamous assassin to his godson. At least, not until said assassin was far, _far_ away.

"Teddy, how many times must I tell you _not_ to open that door on your own; it's not safe-" the beautiful, ebon-and-grey haired woman coming up on the other side of the door stopped short, a surprised expression quickly overtaking the exasperation that had been filling her voice.

"Andromeda." Harry said, a warm smile spreading on his face. Andromeda smiled back, though her expression was far more understated than his.

"Harry. What a pleasant surprise; I didn't think you were planning on coming by today."

Harry coughed, marginally embarrassed, while Teddy all but beamed up at him with what was possibly the happiest smile the agent had ever seen.

"Yeah, well… Things have been hectic lately, and I didn't get a chance to call before I started out. I hope we're not interrupting anything?" Harry shifted his godson's weight, the six-year-old utterly unwilling to be let down now that he had been hoisted up into the air. Checking his grip, he sidled past the older woman when she waved him in.

"And, who is this?" she asked pleasantly while tugging the door shut, eying Squalo as he followed Harry inside. The tall, stately woman's aristocratic features were set in a mild, unassuming look - but her eyes were sharp. And very suspicious.

Seeing the edge that suddenly seemed to manifest in the Italian standing beside him, Harry grimaced, opening his mouth to try and assure Andromeda that Squalo was perfectly harmless - no matter _how_ unbelievable the set of Squalo's shoulders and his violently expectant grin made that sound.

The tension slowly beginning to fill the anteroom fizzled out as abruptly as it had come into being, though, when Teddy saw fit to speak up in favour of his new found inspiration.

"Whoever he is, he's _wicked_! Look at his _hair_, grandma!" Teddy's sudden and excited interjection was enough to draw Andromeda's attention away from the assassin that had just stepped into her home. Harry was more than a little thankful that she was ignorant about that particular fact.

Godfather to her grandson or not, Harry knew exactly where he stood with Andromeda. A loving and accepting woman she may be, but she considered Teddy's safety paramount to anything else. And if she ever found out just what Squalo did for a living, Harry didn't doubt the chances of his getting away unscathed.

That is to say, no chance whatsoever.

"Teddy, it's unseemly to point at people like that, put down your hand…"

"But his _hair,_ grandma! His hair!"

Harry coughed, trying and failing to mask his laughter, while simultaneously struggling to maintain his hold on the squirming child held in his arms. Squalo looked caught between looking flummoxed and looking entertained. Teddy's very obvious appreciation for his hair seemed to have ensured irritability and anger wouldn't make it into the equation.

Watching the increasingly vexed expression beginning to appear on Andromeda's face, Harry tried to figure out some way to draw the metamorphmagus' attention away from the topic of Squalo's hair, but surprisingly, the younger man managed to take care of the situation himself.

"It's fine, he isn't the first person to have reacted like that." Squalo offered peaceably. Harry was admittedly unnerved by the relatively polite and non-hostile words, but the warning look Squalo shot at him was enough to make him stay silent.

And Andromeda was looking between the two of them, her suspicious look having been traded for one of shrewd curiosity.

Deciding that he really didn't want to deal with anymore questions with regard to himself and Squalo, not after the inquisition he had faced earlier in the morning, he turned around began walking towards the hall, ignoring Teddy's protests at being separated from the silveret, who hadn't moved to follow them further inside.

He also ignored the fact that Andromeda had begun to question said silveret in a low and politely-inquisitive tone. It's not like the older woman would have stopped even if he had asked her to, and anyway, Squalo could take care of himself.

He wasn't running away. He _wasn't._

…

Okay. Maybe he was. But he had every right to do so when it was _Andromeda_ doing the questioning.

He didn't think any other woman could pull off the cold, untouchable aristocrat and somehow manage to merge it with old gossipy grandmother, but Andromeda somehow did. And the results were terrifying to watch.

So, yes. He had every right to sound the retreat. It wasn't his fault if Squalo hadn't seen fit to retreat right after him, right?

x

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.

If he had been asked in his teenage years if the ancestral house of the Blacks could ever come across as a warm and comfortable home, Harry might have laughed in the questioner's face. Actually, he _would_ have laughed. Possibly derisively.

But, seated in a now well-lit drawing room with the heavy, luxuriant blue curtains pulled apart to let natural light inside, and surrounded by an eclectic mix of antique and modern furniture that must have taken years to accumulate, he had to admit that the new avatar of Grimmauld Place was startlingly welcoming. Squalo was lounging on the couch beside him, a pained look still stuck on his face.

"Bitch."

Harry smirked.

"You've called me that one too many times for it to sound like an insult anymore, mate."

"The emotion is conveyed. I don't have the energy to find anything better to swear at you with. I'll find something given time, though."

"You should have followed me up the stairs."

"I fucking dare you to have done that if you'd been in my place."

"I would have."

"Oh, really."

Harry leant away, avoiding the dangerous look that the silveret was shooting at him, but his smirk remained unaffected. Once Squalo had managed to escape from the older woman, he had beaten a hasty retreat into the drawing room where Harry had cloistered himself. Teddy had had enough mental presence to back down himself, quietly informing Harry that he was going down to the kitchen to help his grandmother before disappearing without another word.

And Harry had been left behind to placate a very irritated swordsman, one who might just have decided to skewer him for leaving him behind to fend off Andromeda's questions all alone.

The irritation had eventually degenerated into the petty name calling that was currently going on, though. Harry didn't think Squalo was actually all that irate about what he'd been forced to put up with – the Italian seemed to have a healthy amount of respect for anyone that managed to pull one over him. Not that he would actually show any of that respect or camaraderie unless he believed they deserved it, of course. If he didn't think they deserved it, he would probably do his level best to rip them apart at any given opportunity.

"So. What do you think of Teddy?" Harry asked suddenly, all but springing the question at the mafioso. Squalo blinked at him slowly, before snorting in amusement.

"Interesting." He offered succinctly. When he noticed the dissatisfied look Harry was shooting at him, the younger man rolled his eyes.

"Did you really think that I was going say any more than that?" he drawled out, eyes gleaming strangely in the light that was streaming in through the windows. Harry frowned back at him, head tilting slightly to the side as he considered the question. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

"Not really, no. Though I _was_ expecting something along the lines of 'shitty, over-excitable brat'." He answered, grinning slightly. He was gratified to see the little tension remaining in Squalo's lithe frame drain out.

"I _might _have said that. If he couldn't make his hair look like a fucking rainbow."

Harry nearly choked on the laughter _that_ statement brought up.

"Don't let Andromeda hear that," he warned, shoulders still shaking in silent mirth once he managed to get himself under control. The damned silver-haired arse looked far to pleased with the reaction his words had brought out.

"Oh, I don't know. She might just agree with me." Squalo threw back, smirking slightly. Harry was saved from having to dignify that with an answer, since Teddy chose that moment to make a reappearance.

"Harry, grandma's asking the two of you to come down. Kreacher's made some tea and snacks for all of us."

"Oh, has he now?" Harry rose with a small grin, fondly amused to hear of the crotchety old elf's rather predictable reaction to his arrival at Grimmauld Place. After the war, Kreacher had returned to him and had quite insistently suggested that he continue in the service of the Potter family, but Harry himself hadn't been quite sure of the idea. Especially since he'd already had rough plans to stay in a small apartment of his own by that point, and an apartment didn't require the kind of upkeep that a house elf could provide. He'd been stuck wondering what to do with the elf, since Kreacher obviously didn't want to be set free the way Dobby had, and didn't want to work at Hogwarts either.

His decision had been made for him when Andromeda arrived out of the blue to take charge of her grandson, and he had cheerfully handed over both ownership of Grimmauld Place as well as Kreacher's service to her. Kreacher hadn't been very happy with the sudden turn of events, but Harry had mollified him by saying that at least this way Kreacher could still remain in charge of the upkeep of the ancestral home of the Black family. And once Kreacher realised that Harry would still be stopping by regularly to visit his godson, the elf reluctantly gave in.

Initially, on returning to the Black's ancestral home after the war, Andromeda had been completely blown away by Kreacher's apparent turn around in demeanour. Especially since in her youth, the elf had been utterly irreverent to anyone going against the Black Family Code of Ethics (or lack, thereof) – and as far as her family had been concerned, Andromeda had committed the most heinous of crimes. Therefore, no friendly overtures from the cantankerous elf. Or so she had assumed.

However, upon returning to her old house, she had been met with the existence of a Kreacher who had been as amicable as any house elf could be. The fact that his devotion to Harry bordered on the obsessive was a major determining factor, too.

It was only once they had reached the kitchen that Harry realised he hadn't said or done anything to prepare Squalo for his first encounter with a house elf. Shooting the younger man a particularly impish look, he stepped in without another word, instead heading inside to greet Kreacher with a wide smile.

Kreacher in turn greeted him with a large mug of spiced tea, and a plate of delectable looking sandwiches already placed on the table.

The odd, choking sound that came from behind him was Harry's only clue to Squalo's reaction, but when he glanced over his shoulder, the younger man had a perfectly composed face. He then accepted the mug of tea that Kreacher offered him with as much grace as anyone could. Harry might have been completely fooled if it weren't for Squalo's white-knuckled grip on the mug and the way the fingers of his left hand kept jerking reflexively. As though reaching for a sword hilt that was unfortunately absent.

Harry used the opportunity to hide his smirk behind his mug while sliding simultaneously into a chair at the table. Squalo was quick to follow him, and Harry didn't fail to notice that the silveret chose to sit on his other side, as far from Kreacher as he could get.

He couldn't quite muffle his low chuckle, at least not enough for it to pass Squalo's notice.

"You planned this." He ground out in an undertone, though his expression somehow managed to stay utterly unruffled. Harry sniggered in response.

"No, actually. Though I don't deny that I enjoyed the outcome all the same. Aren't you glad that I asked you to leave your sword in the car? I'd hate to have been the one who explained why, exactly, Andromeda's house help was strewn in gory bits on the kitchen floor…" he teased in just as soft a voice. He couldn't help but laugh when Squalo suddenly acquired a rather disturbing smile that showed far too many teeth.

The two were distracted from their quiet conversation only when Andromeda cleared her voice rather pointedly.

"Help yourselves to the sandwiches, boys." She said pleasantly, but Harry didn't miss the inquisitive glint in her eyes. Teddy didn't show nearly as much subtlety in his curiosity, choosing instead to hop into a chair that had been fitted for his height and staring at the two of them in undisguised interest.

"Grandma said that he said that you two were ac-quaintan-ces?" Teddy asked with childishly wide eyes, carefully sounding out the word. Harry shot Squalo a _look_, one that the mafioso returned with a raised eyebrow, perfectly poised while taking a small sip of his tea. Harry rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to his godson.

"Yes, but it would be more appropriate to call us friends. We've known each other for long enough, after all." He said blandly. He ignored the way Squalo's shoulders suddenly went taut and then relaxed right after.

"For long enough? Oh, Squalo neglected to mention how long you've actually known each other," Andromeda left the sentence open ended, obviously waiting for him to offer more information. Harry hummed, and took a sip of his own tea.

"Well, the first time we actually met was around four years ago, so…" he began, before the flavour of the tea managed to derail his thoughts completely.

"Oh, Kreacher! This blend is _brilliant._ You must tell me how you managed this; I can never make tea even half as well as you do."

The old house elf puffed up in very obvious pride, making Teddy giggle.

"Of course, Master Harry. Kreacher will be sure to tell Master before he leaves." He said solemnly, though the delight at pleasing the man he still considered his true master in some sense showed in the elf's eyes.

Harry was interrupted before he could consider saying any more when Squalo snorted in disbelief.

"_Voooi_, since when did you start flipping out over fu- over _tea?_" he asked snidely, biting back the characteristic expletive when he noticed the brat's eyes lock onto him. Harry coughed self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm pathetic at making good tea. That's originally why I started making and drinking coffee, though I actually prefer tea." He said defensively.

"_Prefer _tea? I don't think I've seen you drink any in all the time I've known you." Squalo shot back contemptuously.

"Just because you haven't seen me drink it doesn't mean that I've sworn off it completely," Harry bit out. The derisive sneer that broke out over the silveret's face was magnificent enough to make Teddy burst into delighted laughter, while Andromeda first gave a startled cough.

"You must know each other well," the older woman mused, once her surprise had faded. Squalo gave another snort, while Harry rolled his eyes.

"Not really-" Harry began, when he was interrupted yet again when Squalo spoke over him in a bored drawl.

"I don't need to know him well to know that he's obsessed with coffee. To an unnatural degree."

Harry pursed his lips irately.

"The term is _addicted."_

"And that's supposed to make it sound _better?"_

Teddy was beginning to go blue in the face with the way he was giggling uncontrollably, while Andromeda finally gave in to the soft laughter that was bubbling up because of the spectacle the two men were making of themselves. Both Harry and Squalo paused in the midst of their argument while the process of leaning forward to growl out more snide remarks at each other, and turned as one to stare at their hosts. Harry was doubly unnerved when he noticed the way Kreacher's shoulders were shaking in barely hidden mirth.

Once the last three members of the Black household had calmed down enough to continue the conversation – and Kreacher had calmed down enough to set a plate of chocolate biscuits and full pot of freshly prepared tea on the table – Andromeda leaned forward with a far too interested gleam in her eyes.

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Squalo unobtrusively drew his chair a little away from the table.

"You've been friends for four years, have you?" she said amusedly. Harry made a face, while Squalo looked away, noncommittal.

"Yeah, in a way. It's not like we talk all that much, and we barely know each other, but-"

"But you brought him here! To visit!" Teddy declared loudly. That made Harry pause, staring at his frighteningly observant godson and distantly noting that Squalo had gone completely still beside him.

Teddy had brought up an interesting point. One that Squalo had brought up earlier, actually, when they'd first arrived at Grimmauld Place, though he hadn't paid much attention to it then. What the hell did it mean when he went around dragging Squalo to the homes of close friends and family when he was supposed to be the guy Harry was having an 'illicit affair' with, to use the mafioso's words?

He couldn't help but smile at Teddy's exuberant expression, though, and told himself that he'd think about what the boy had said later.

"That I did," he agreed, sighing good-naturedly when Andromeda predictably turned the line of conversation to how he'd met Squalo for the first time, and then towards the more general line of questioning about work, health and Ron and Hermione.

x

"Harry and you _are_ good friends, right?"

Squalo started, and looked down at Potter's brat of a godson with some bemusement. The kid was still sporting familiarly shaded silver hair, and his eyes were the same arresting shade of green that his godfather had. The combination was disconcerting to look at for too long. Ignoring the strange flash of warmth and satisfaction that shot through him whenever he focused on the hair alone – because, honestly, impersonation was abso-fucking-lutely the _best_ when it came to flattery, as long as it wasn't his swordsmanship that was being impersonated – he raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Harry and you, Mr. Superbi. You _are_ good friends, right?"

Squalo rolled his eyes, and looked away.

"Don't fu- don't call me that. It's disturbing. Squalo's good enough."

"But, are you?"

Squalo nearly groaned in exasperation. This was why he couldn't stand brats; they didn't know when to shut up. This one had at least been marginally bearable, until he'd been cornered outside while waiting for Harry to come out.

"None of your business." He said harshly, but sadly enough, it wasn't enough to warn the brat away.

"I'm just asking 'cause he looks happier with you than he does with Ginny."

Squalo muttered a curse under his breath, and was in the process of spitting out another harsh comment when what the brat said actually caught up with him. His eyebrows shot up, and he straightened from where he'd been leaning indolently against the car, focusing all of his attention on the boy staring up at him with a deceptively innocent expression.

"Any particular reason why you're clubbing him getting along well with me with the way he looks around Ginny?" he asked flatly. The brat, Teddy, tilted his head and smiled up at him beatifically.

Squalo couldn't help but twitch. It just figured. The godfather was bad enough, with how perceptive he'd turned out to be at times, but the godson was _worse._

"…how old are you again, kid?"

Teddy lost the smile and crossed his arms in an obvious show of distaste.

"How old I am doesn't have anything to do with my question." He grumbled sullenly.

"It does when you're asking about my-" Squalo cut himself off before he said more than any six year old had a right to hear. Or understand, for that matter. When Teddy continued to look up at him expectantly, he sighed, and leant back against the car.

"Cute and shy kid my ass, brat. You fucking play to the crowd."

Teddy smiled up at him pleasantly.

"Grandma'll get pissed if she hears you say that around me."

"Your grandma'll get pissed if she hears you _say_ 'pissed'."

"May be."

The two silverets remained quiet for a few moments, listening to the voices drifting out through the open door. Teddy shifted silently and leant back against the car door.

"…I don't, you know. Play to the crowd. Grandma's just good at ignoring what she doesn't want to see."

"…and Harry?"

"He doesn't treat me like a kid unless I want to be."

"_Do_ you want to be?"

"…sometimes."

They found themselves lost in silence yet again, but it wasn't as uncomfortable as it could have been. It was Squalo's turn to shift in place, sighing as he looked up to stare sightlessly at the sky.

"…I don't know what the fuck you mean when you ask if we're good friends, brat."

"Are you, though?"

"We get along well enough."

"I guess that'll have to do, then."

He blinked, and looked down to stare at the brat. Teddy had already disappeared in a flurry of exited energy, though, all but bouncing towards the porch of the house where his godfather had just stepped through the doorway, still talking to Andromeda. Squalo watched as the sable haired man lifted the kid with a grin, and as Teddy waved his arms this way and that, acting just like the kid he was supposed to be.

He sighed, forcing back the urge to press his fingers to his aching head, and wondered why the fuck he'd bothered to indulge the kid.

By the time Harry had arrived at the car, Teddy had managed to both calm down and wrangle a self-invitation to the lunch they were heading for. Squalo was sorely tempted to ask the older man sliding into the driver's seat if he knew of the abominable intelligence his godson had tucked away inside his head. Then again, if the amused patience Harry was showing while biding farewell to Andromeda and warning Teddy to stay in one place in the back seat was anything to go by, the man already knew.

Squalo didn't do much more than offer a fleetingly polite nod to the aristocratic woman, and gained a similarly fleeting nod in response before he slid into the car himself.

It was only once they were well on their way to Ron Weasley's home that Harry spoke up.

"The two of you seemed to be talking about something interesting earlier," he said mildly. Squalo shook his head and looked out the window.

"You don't want to know. Trust me."

He watched from the corner of his eye as Harry blinked in surprise, then glanced up into the rear view mirror, presumably staring at the brat sitting complacently in the back. The unrepentant giggle that emerged from the back was rewarded with a grimace from the wizard sitting beside him.

"…Right. Teddy, what have I told you about antagonising people?"

"…Not to?"

"And?"

"That people feel weird if I say weird things?"

"And what did you do?"

"I didn't! An-tagonise him, I mean."

Squalo coughed pointedly, not bothering to hide the smirk that spread across his face. Harry, catching sight of the expression, winced uneasily.

The fact that Teddy didn't defend himself against the 'saying weird things' clause of Harry's warning said a lot.

"…I really don't want to know, do I."

"You don't." Squalo agreed. Teddy's soft sniggering from the back only seemed to cement the statement.

Harry sighed, and turned his attention back to the road ahead.

x

_("Hermione- Hermione, stop- _Please_. Just listen to-"_

"_This is _wrong_, Ron! You _know_ that! How in the _world_ could you _ever_ condone something like this?"_

"_For the last time, I'm not 'condoning' _anything_!"_

"_Not condoning? If this isn't condoning, I shudder to think how it would appear if you actually _were_ encouraging something!"_

"_Hermione-"_

"_Ron, just… I can't talk about this anymore. I _can't._ The longer you're here, the longer we discuss this_…_ the less I can hear myself think."_

"…_Have you _ever_ seen him look as relaxed as he did around Superbi, Hermione? Has he looked that relaxed at _any_ point, since the end of the war?"_

"…_That has nothing to do with this."_

"…_How can you _say_-"_

"No_, Ron. I have nothing against him being happy, relaxed or anything else. I love him as much as you do, believe me, and I will always want what's best for him. But this? Nothing you say is going to convince me that this is for the best, Ron. _Nothing._")_

x

Listening to the intermittent clash and bang of vessels flying into each other from the relative safety of the living room, Ron Weasley did his level best to hide a wince. Openly showing his uneasiness would have been a horrible idea under the best of circumstances, but the very thought of leaving himself open to attack while _certain un-named individuals_ were nearby was intolerable.

The sight of the pleasantly curious smile on his sister-in-law's tilted face made him bite back an oath. A particularly loud crash from the kitchen then had him ducking his head in silent dismay, though it drew a thoughtful hum from the blond seated elegantly on one of the many throw-cushions spread out on the rug-strewn floor.

"You must have managed something truly unmatchable zis time, Ronald." Fleur murmured, voice mockingly awful.

"Not helping, sister dear." He bit out, pasting a saccharine smile to his face. The pale blonde woman sitting in the couch gave him a considering look. Then, a slow smile stretched itself across her face, even as she elegantly tucked her legs beneath herself, barely shifting the throw cushion she was seated on.

"I am sure." She murmured. Ron sighed, a little exasperated.

"I don't need this right now, Fleur. You can play around with our heads on another day, alright?"

The unamused look that his sister-in-law shot him made Ron wince yet again. Fleur had truly turned out to be a formidable den mother once she came into her own, following right in the footsteps of his mother. He didn't know whether to be impressed or wary – an uncertainty that plagued not only him, but the rest of his brothers as well. Including Bill.

It was times like this that made him sympathise with Harry, at least to some extent. The poor bloke needed to deal with Hermione and himself poking their noses into _everything_, much the same way Fleur ran interrogation the moment she thought something was wrong in the family. If this was what it felt like each and every time he sat Harry down to talk… Granted, he didn't pester his friend unless it was absolutely necessary…

'Doesn't make it any less traumatising,' whispered a voice inside his head. It sounded suspiciously like Hermione. He pushed the thought back into the depths of his mind. The last thing he needed was a voice of reason that impersonated his pissed off girlfriend.

"-on. Ron!"

Jerking in surprise at the sudden intrusion in his thoughts, he glanced up sharply, relaxing a little once he realised it was only Fleur. Now seated a lot closer than she had been earlier. The relief dissolved all too quickly when he took in the faint frown on her face.

"Ron, eez something wrong? Truly? If zis eez something zat needs time, I'm sure we could cancel ze lunch date for today._Il__n'est pas_..."

"No, Fleur," he cut in hurriedly, before the beautiful blonde worried herself into a right state. The very fact that she'd slipped in some French without noticing while speaking to _him,_ of all people… It wasn't a good sign. "I don't think we need to cancel anything at this point. I'm _sure_." He added, when he saw the worry in her eyes shift ever-so-slightly towards scepticism.

The crash and tinkle of glass inside the kitchen made both Ron and Fleur sit up with a start, and Fleur managed to fling herself upwards before he could even begin to untangle himself from the throw cushions Hermione had strewn across the carpeted floor of their sitting room. By the time he reached the kitchen, Fleur was already helping Hermione clear up the remains of a large crystal bowl from the floor. She was simultaneously scolding the contrite looking four year old standing beside the refrigerator.

"_Victoire!_ 'ow many times must I tell you _not_ to go near ze glassware, _mon Dieu…!" _ Ron quickly tuned out her exasperated voice, hearing the last remaining traces of Fleur's French accent rear up in her speech, even stronger than before. Not that it was surprising in any sense, since it was a common characteristic of her 'I am angry and worried and why can't you be more _careful_' speeches. He instead strode forward, flicking his wrist and catching the wand that slid into his fingers without a second thought. A bare glance from chocolate brown eyes that stared up at him, soon followed by an involuntarily pursing of her lips, told him that Hermione wasn't ready to acknowledge him in any way. Not yet. But that didn't mean that he couldn't help, right? It was only once they were done that his attention returned to the conversation taking place behind them.

"_Pardon_, maman…"

"You don't sound very sorry to me." Ron said mildly from behind her. Victoire squeaked, and peeked up at him with a far less contrite expression than her posture hinted at.

"Oh, but I am, Uncle Ron!" Victoire was quick to defend herself, though her blue eyes were twinkling impishly up at him. He rolled his eyes and scooped her up without another word, glancing back into the kitchen to see if they needed any more help. Hermione looked up from where she was trying to put the glass shards together again, and quickly waved him on. He left the kitchen soon after, thankfully trading one blonde relative for the other, far more diminutive and less frightening one. As long as she wasn't left around anything too sharp. Or breakable.

He collapsed into a cushion that was closer to the merrily crackling fireplace, and a giggling Victoire collapsed onto him in turn, making him groan theatrically. His playful dismay only served to make his niece trade her giggles for laughter. Very proper, demure and ladylike laughter, true, but laughter all the same. He grinned in triumph, though he tried to tone his expression down immediately. He was supposed to be the responsible adult here, after all.

There was an unspoken rule in the Weasley Household. And in the Potter Household (however measly it was at this point). And in any household that was in any way acquainted with the extended family of the Weasleys' – which included not only Harry, but also Teddy Lupin and Andromeda Black. Whatever you do, do _not_ leave Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin alone and unsupervised in a kitchen together. Or anywhere else, for that matter, but the kitchen in particular. Not unless you were prepared to replace your entire collection of breakable dishes. And everything else in the kitchen, too.

Victoire and Teddy were turning out to be a pair of veritable hellions when left to themselves.

"Victoire, darling, must you do this every single time?" he asked her seriously, once he'd had her seated on top of a large cushion beside him. She batted her large blue eyes at him, looking as innocent as ever. The giggle that eventually spilt passed her lips made him smile helplessly.

"Blimey, girl. Try to be a little more careful, yeah? You don't want mum to find out about this."

She looked a little confused, but managed to link the 'mum' with the idea that breaking things was _bad_, and nodded vigorously all the same.

The unexpected burst of emerald green flames in the grate made his eyes dart up in surprise, though he didn't get more than a second to smile at the slim, auburn-haired form of his sister before the door bell rang.

"Ron, could you get that, please? We're still busy in here!"

Calling back an affirmative to Hermione, he dragged himself to his feet, trading a mutually amused glance with Ginny. His sister was eying Victoire with familiar wariness, coupled with exasperated fondness.

"Struck again, has she?"

"What do you think?" he countered with a sigh, gently pushing his suddenly shy niece towards her aunt.

Leaving the two to themselves, he quickly made his way to the front door, only pausing to check the master ward built into the wood. One was, as expected, Harry's all too familiar signature, which was already tied into the wards, and another signature that felt distinctly younger than and nearly as familiar as Harry's. The third was relatively unfamiliar, sharper, and yet had a cool comforting texture that left Ron a little surprised, especially considering he already knew the identity of the man to whom the signature belonged. Undoing the locking mechanism, he'd barely opened the door before Teddy pushed his way through, stumbling only once before he was off like a shot.

"Victoire! VICTOIRE!"

Victoire's answering squeal made him flinch instinctively.

"Harry, Superbi," He greeted with a tight smile, then turned to raise an eyebrow at the sable haired man still standing on the other side of the door. Harry looked vaguely apologetic, and very exasperated. Superbi had an amused expression on his face as he stared after Teddy – who was already cheerfully involved with Victoire, no doubt.

"I'm guessing the brat came to meet up with the mini-blondie?" he asked snidely, looking down at Harry's bowed head. The shorter man pinched the bridge of his nose, a shadow of irritation passing over his face before it died down again.

"Probably. You _do _realise that Victoire's Ron's niece?"

Ron had to ignore the urge to smirk when the comment made Superbi glance at him instinctually.

"Juvenile name-calling aside, I really don't mind it all that much. Victoire can be a real nuisance if she gets her mind up to it; she's probably going to earn every name she gets tagged with the older she gets." He said cryptically. Harry's snigger and mumble of 'Don't I know it,' made Superbi look between them with a curious expression. His mouth opened, likely to ask after the claim, when he was cut off by a surprised call from the living room behind him.

"Oh, Harry!"

Ron blinked, and looked over his shoulder. Ginny had a cheerful grin on her face, though it shifted to polite curiosity when she caught sight of Squalo looming behind Harry's shorter form like a silver-haired scarecrow.

He hated himself for the way his body seized up at the sight of his sister. With the cold war going on between Hermione and himself, he hadn't even had the time to prepare himself for the inevitable meeting between Superbi and Ginny. He was unsurprised to see a look of similar unease appear on Harry's face before it was forced away. Ron felt a momentary sense of disquiet over Superbi's possible reaction, but the silveret's expression was completely inscrutable except for its mild curiosity.

"You must be Harry's mysterious friend, then." Ginny's curious words quickly broke him out of the worry he'd fallen prey to. Harry's suddenly panicky expression was enough to tell him that his friend was just as wary over anything that might spill out of Squalo's mouth, but the easy smile that the younger man had on his face managed to stop them from saying anything they might have regretted.

"Voooi, I don't know how fucking mysterious I am, but I'm a friend alright."

The statement brought a moment of awkward silence to the corridor. Ron couldn't help but stare at Squalo's bored expression, and he noted distantly that Harry had turned away with a hand pressed to his mouth, shoulders quivering in a rather alarming way. He couldn't see Ginny's face, since she had moved away from behind him, but the stillness in her form, in the hand resting lightly on his back, carried enough of an indication of her surprise.

"…I see. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you all the same. I'm Ginevra Weasley, but please, call me Ginny." She offered after another moment, her voice carefully controlled. Squalo politely shook the hand she held out, the vaguely placid expression pasted onto his face not budging an inch.

"Squalo Superbi."

Ron quickly took his sister by the shoulders and ushered her inside, keeping up a steady stream of inane conversation about how practice matches with other teams had been going since the last time he'd seen her - even though he'd already exhausted that topic of conversation when the family had met up for lunch over the weekend. Ginny told him as much, but quickly began describing a more recent match she hadn't mentioned to him yet. He kept one ear focused on Harry and Squalo, still standing near the door.

"What was that, exactly?"

"I was being nice!"

"Oh, really now."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean-"

Merlin's balls, he didn't want to know. As long as Superbi didn't purposely do anything to create trouble, he didn't think he _needed_ to know what made the man tick. It was going to be enough of a headache managing Fleur, Hermione and Ginny at the same time _anyway_, without two hyperactive kids and a pair of dysfunctional illicit lovers being added to the mix.

He really didn't know how he managed to put up with everything his life tended to throw at him. Bloody hell.

By the time he'd taken a detour to the kitchen to let Hermione and Fleur know that Harry and Squalo had arrived with Teddy in tow (_"Teddy?_ Teddy's here too?" "…Hermione, I think we should lock up ze more expensive glassware now…"), it was clear that they were a lot more comfortable with each other. Harry was sitting on the same cushion as Ginny, with Ginny cuddled up into his side with a smile. Harry, for his part, was smirking as he recounted some interesting incident from work, probably as some odd kind of ice-breaker. Listening carefully, he couldn't help but smirk as well.

"-And Seamus had the gall to say 'But they're pink! I don't like pink!'. I thought Kingsley was going to have an aneurism then and there."

"I remember that. It was after the Huxley case, wasn't it?" he asked, dropping onto a cushion beside Superbi. The younger man looked supremely amused, though Ron couldn't make out whether it was the story or the situation that had put that smirk on his face.

"Yeah, Ma Huxley was so relieved that we'd gotten her son back that she insisted on giving us all gifts, remember?"

Ron chortled.

"Homemade tea cosies. _Pink _tea cosies. Forget Kingsley having an aneurism, I thought Seamus was going to commit ritual suicide when he was forced to accept them."

"'And you'll _like_ them. You will like them enough that you won't be able to sleep without them. Do you hear me, Finnegan?'"

The imitation was spot on. Ron and Ginny collapsed in laughter, while Harry looked quite smug with himself.

"Kingsley's the head of your department, isn't he?" Superbi asked with a raised eyebrow. Ron nodded in assent, still trying to catch his breath. Ginny took a deep breath, trying to still the laughter, then her head tilted to the side, a confused look on her face.

"Didn't you already know that? I could have sworn that Harry said you were a friend from work…"

Ron choked in the middle of his laughter, while Superbi's lips spread in a disturbingly wide grin.

"Oh he did, did he?"

"I met him while I was _out_ on work, Gin. In the middle of a case," Harry cut in hurriedly, shooting a hard look at silveret seated beside Ron. Ron, for his part, muttered an oath, raising a hand to rub at his eyes. From what angle did Superbi come across as a 'friend from work'? If anything, their agency was required to keep an eye on people like the mafioso, to make sure they didn't get involved in anything to do with the shadier side of magic.

By the time he'd looked up, Ginny's expression had shifted slightly. The smile seemed a lot more forced than it had a second ago. His shoulders went stiff for a moment before he forced himself to relax, though not before Superbi had shot him a shrewd look from the corner of his eyes.

"Oh? A friend from work?" the lilting voice that came from their left made Ron jerk in surprise, and he turned his face towards the Fleur with a vaguely defeated feeling curling through him.

"I met him _on a case_, Fleur. I don't think anyone in the department'll know him except for Ron here." Said Harry with a groan, collapsing sideways into Ginny, who came back to herself with a start and then propped him up with a surprised laugh.

"_Bon jour,_ friend of 'Arry from a case. I would have introduced myself with more propriety if it weren't for 'Arry neglecting to mention or introduce you before zis," Fleur said mildly, making Harry wince. Ron was too caught up with the way Superbi was _staring_ at Fleur.

_I doubt he's met a Veela before. Or a part-Veela_.

Ron jerked again when Superbi gave a bark of laughter, rose up in one fluid motion and then proceeded to introduce himself. In flawless French.

Ron could only stare in horrified fascination, feeling vaguely as though he was an innocent bystander watching a train crash taking place. When Fleur laughed in delight, and all but grabbed the silveret by the wrist to lead him back to the kitchen with her, already in the process of discussing something-or-the-other with him, he _knew_ that there was something horribly wrong with the scenario. The choking sound coming from Harry let him know that he wasn't the only one facing disbelief at this point.

"Erm… is he French by any chance, Harry?" Ginny's voice was a welcome reprieve, however bemused it sounded.

"Ah, no… He's Italian, actually. But he's a polyglot, from what I can make out…" Harry mumbled, shaking his head in what seemed to be a practised motion.

"Sure he's not been caught up in her allure? I've seen better-informed men falling to pieces in front of Fleur." She said amusedly, beginning to look thoroughly entertained, if the grin she shot at him was anything to go by. Ron rolled his eyes with a huff. He'd been _fourteen_. And Fleur had been stringing along _seventeen year olds._ Harry, however, gave a rather rude snort in reply.

"Squalo, caught up in a veela's allure? I'd feel sorry for the veela. No, Gin. Whatever the hell that was, it was all natural, not allure-controlled."

Ron had to snigger in response, especially since he had a better understanding of _why_ Harry would feel so sorry for anyone trying to reel the violent swordsman in. He didn't think the insanity of the situation could get any worse. At least, not until he noticed Hermione leaning out of the kitchen entrance on the far side of the dining room, glancing towards him with an expression of horrified stupefaction on her face. Taking that as his cue, he gathered up the other two and headed for the kitchen, hoping to be of _some_ use at least. And that bonding with Hermione over the utter surreality of a possible kinship between Fleur and Squalo would be enough to make her talk to him normally again.

x

"This is the point at which we run screaming into the hills," Harry mumbled in an undertone to the redhead standing beside him. Ron nodded wordlessly, though he looked just as horrified. Not that Harry could blame him. He'd arrived at Ron and Hermione's apartment only marginally prepared to deal with the expected amount of vitriol on Squalo's part while the silveret interacted with so many people. The little interaction between Squalo and Ginny had been enough of an indication that he had woefully misjudged his ability to handle Squalo's harsh attitude towards humanity in general, but nothing could have prepared him to deal with the rather frightening sight of Fleur and Squalo chatting like a pair of old friends. In _French_, which was all the more bemusing, since he'd never heard Squalo speak a word of it until that day.

'I really shouldn't be surprised about this,' he thought to himself rather ruefully, watching as Fleur all but frog-marched Teddy and Victoire into helping with setting the table. He belatedly stepped forward along with Ron to help, and gave a wary smile when Fleur's lips tilted in what would have been a mostly pleasant expression - that is, if it hadn't brought to mind a hungry snake of some sort.

Possibly a basilisk.

"A very interesting friend you've made, 'Arry." She offered mildly, though the wicked light glinting in her eyes warned him to be careful while answering her.

"Ah, you're not the first to say so?" he said finally, while grabbing a set of forks and knives from the central drawer of the large set of cupboards covering nearly the entire wall opposite the open archway leading towards the kitchen.

"I'm sure I'm not – _Victoire!_ You are not to 'andle any of ze knives unless you're already seated at ze table, where someone can keep an eye on you!"

"But mama, Teddy's got one too…"

"Teddy, you aren't to encourage 'er!

Glancing out of the corner of his eye at the two children staring down at the floor while Fleur raged over them, he wondered absently where the two could have picked up such a large pair of knives - _carving _knives, no less - without anyone noticing. He couldn't contain the sigh that escaped him when Fleur snatched both knives out of their hands and whirled away towards the kitchen, already calling out in French for Squalo to take them away.

"Teddy."

Teddy looked up with an all too innocent expression, though the wide grin beginning to break out on his face waylaid any pretensions of innocence. Victoire glanced up with a similarly 'innocent' expression, giggles already beginning to escape her.

Ron groaned lowly.

"Really, you two. Can't you at least _try_ to be a little more controlled? At least for today?" he asked tiredly. Harry blinked, and gave a quick, searching glance towards the other man. Ron seemed far too tired, his weary expression hinting at a deeper sense of exhaustion than the usual variety caused by Teddy and Victoire's destructive behaviour. He bit his lip, feeling the guilt lurking in the far reaches of his mind rearing its ugly head yet again. This hadn't been an easy day for his friend, more so because of the way Hermione had reacted after stumbling across evidence of his and Squalo's less than platonic relationship.

"No more mischief out of the two of you brats. I mean it." Harry cut in, immediately catching the attention of both kids while they'd been trying to play to Ron's better nature. Teddy looked up at him sharply, clearly hearing the warning in his words, and then looked down again, this time more honestly apologetic. Victoire took a peek at her companion's expression and then looked down as well, mumbling a small 'sorry' to go along with Teddy's own apology.

"Maybe they should just sit in one place over here," Ron said thoughtfully, setting out the last of the plates while Harry moved around him with the ease of long practice, arranging the rest of the cutlery to go along with the plates and napkins.

"May be they should," he murmured, smiling inspite of himself as both children all but wilted where they were standing. Ginny's clear, bell-like laughter while she brought out a large bowl of salad sent a wave of warm affection spiralling through him.

"Oh, now you're being too harsh, Harry." She said, nudging him playfully before heading back inside to pick up another dish. He followed right after, since the table was already set. He heard Ron warning Teddy and Victoire to at least _try_ and stay out of trouble before following them inside.

Whatever he'd been expecting to see, it hadn't been the sight of Squalo and Fleur working together to clear up the remains of what had obviously been the makings of the salad. Squalo had his hair pulled back in a loose braid and his sleeves pulled up, his disturbingly domestic appearance warring with the sharp ease with which he was cleaning the variety of knives still set out on the counter before him. Catching him staring, the silveret raised a brow at him, obviously amused. Harry made a face at him, making the younger man nearly chortle with controlled laughter.

He belatedly turned his attention to Ginny, who was in the process of explaining and praising the fact that Squalo had decided to offer his aid in preparing the salad, which Harry assumed was a last minute addition to the line up for lunch. The hint of a smirk that blazed across the silveret's face nearly made Harry curse out loud, especially he noticed the rattled expression on Hermione's face.

_Of course_ he decided to help. What better way to mess with Hermione a little further? Not to say that Squalo wasn't quite capable of handling himself in a kitchen, especially when there was any cutting work of any kind to be dealt with, but the timing was a little too coincidental for comfort.

He might have been tempted to say something to Squalo directly if the ringing of his phone hadn't distracted him. Startled by the unexpected interruption, the phone had already rung a few times before he managed to pull it out. The flash of 'protected number – muggle' in lieu of an actual caller identification made his eyes narrow in immediate suspicion. Despite his wide and rather eclectic set of contacts and informants in the muggle world, there weren't many that actually used protected numbers. Seeing no harm in answering, he accepted the call and held it warily to his ear.

The very cheerful "_Buon Pomeriggio!_" that rang out over the line had him answering near reflexively in response even before he placed the voice. It was only when he noticed Squalo going still over the knives that that he realised his reflexive answer had also been in Italian.

He blinked once, twice, before carefully speaking up. If only to be perfectly sure.

"Dino?"

The resulting babble of overexcited Italian had him laughing in response, and waving Squalo away when he whipped around in surprise.

"Slow down, I'm not going anywhere. Any reason for the sudden call- wait, what? Please tell me you're joking." His amused start slowly dwindled into bewildered disbelief. Squalo's expression was growing more narrow-eyed by the second. And Harry really couldn't blame him.

He really, _really_ shouldn't be surprised by the random twists his life could take anymore.

"_No, of course not. Why would I joke about being in London? I thought I could stop by for a bit, since I still have some time before I need to deal with the actual reason for my visit."_

Harry cleared his throat carefully, and glanced around. Hermione, Ginny and Fleur all looked properly curious, since he'd been sticking to Italian for the entire conversation. Ron looked only mildly interested, but Squalo had a very suspicious glint in his eye. Harry shot him a helpless look, since the Italian was the only other person in the vicinity who had any familiarity with the insanity that tended to follow Dino Cavallone everywhere he went.

"That's… very nice of you. Where are you, right now?"

Harry could almost see the realisation materialise in Squalo's eyes before they shut in a _very_ exasperated and irritable expression. And not surprised in the least.

"_Outside your front door, actually." _Was the sheepish response. Harry gave a surprised cough, then dissolved into helpless and almost painful sniggers. Outside his front door. Circe.

"I'm at a friend's place for lunch. Wait a few minutes, I'll come by and let you in – no, wait." He shot a look a Ron, who neatly guessed just what he wanted to ask and turned the question to Hermione. Hermione looked surprised, but gave an accepting nod all the same. He gave them both a grateful smile before returning to the conversation.

"You might have to wait a little longer, but I'll pick you up. You can join us for lunch."

"_Oh don't bother, Harry, I could just grab some food with Romario…" _And now Dino was beginning to sound a bit awkward over the phone. Harry sighed and gave a small smile. Really, the man was so open to affection that he tended to stumble over basic social niceties when he was speaking to someone he was comfortable with. It showed in the way Dino had waltzed up to his doorway, undoubtedly with not only Romario but with multiple bodyguards in tow as well, not even thinking that his unexpected appearance would cause any kind of trouble for Harry.

"No, no, I insist - It'll be nice to see you again after so long. Lunch is already prepared over here, and there's plenty of it, so it won't be any trouble at all. Just wait right there, okay?"

The very embarrassed affirmative before he cut the call made him want to laugh all over again. The openly expectant expression on everyone's faces made him roll his eyes.

"I should be back soon, I'll just go pick them up and come back. Feel free to start if you like," he offered, but Hermione huffed at him in aggravation before he could continue.

"Just go pick up your friend and come back, Harry. You're just going home and returning right?"

Harry had just begun to nod when Fleur cut in with an impatient gesture of her hand.

"Why don't you just side-along apparate with him?"

He tilted his head to the side, wondering if that could work. Careful research in the field had indicated that the flame wielding members of the mafia families in Italy were definitely using magic, if in a different form, but he had no idea if it would be a good idea. Recorded instances of apparition with muggles 'in the know' already proved that muggles were far more prone to splinching that wizards, and even if there weren't any accidents, the entire process was horribly uncomfortable for the muggle involved – much more so than for a wizard, and Harry already tried to avoid apparating if he had enough time to spare on a more comfortable means of transport. He turned a questioning glance towards Squalo, who he was sure would have at least _some_ idea about the process. There was no way Vongola's most infamous independent assassination force would have left the practices of an entire society to chance once the existence of magic was out in the open.

Squalo hummed thoughtfully, then gave a slow shake of his head. No. Not a good idea. Especially not when the person he was considering to side-along apparate was the Don of a Family as powerful and overprotective as the Cavallone were. Harry nodded back, unquestioningly accepting the younger man's diagnosis.

…why were Ron and Hermione staring at them like that?

"Get going, the fucking horse gets into enough trouble by himself even when he's not all worried about insulting your delicate sensibilities." Squalo snapped out snidely, making everyone except Ron jump in surprise. Fleur shot a very surprised look at the silveret, and murmured something in a very pointed undertone. Ron gave a snort of laughter at Squalo's harsh response, and Harry didn't think there was any other situation in which he wished he actually understood French without use of a translating charm.

He shook his head with a sigh and figured, not for the first time that day, that he was better off not knowing.

x

"You said you were here on work?"

Dino gave a cheerful nod to the question, standing to the side with his sable-haired friend while Romario bustled about, bringing in the two suitcases that he'd brought up from the car for their use. He might have offered, but he already knew for a fact that the older man would never let him take on such a 'mundane' job when he was there to take care of it in his stead.

"I don't need to deal with it immediately, though, so I have some time. Where should we keep the suitcases?"

Dino blinked when he saw the odd flash of emotion over the other man's face before his expression settled.

"You can keep your stuff in the guestroom. I've got someone else staying here, too, but there shouldn't be too much trouble." He said blandly. Dino's eyes narrowed at the way Harry pointedly didn't meet his gaze when he spoke.

"Oh? Anyone I know?" he asked casually. There was a momentary grimace before the older man locked it down with admirable control.

"Yes, quite."

The uncomfortable answer gave him enough reason to stride after Romario with a frown on his face. The sight of the black canvas bag sitting in a corner of the guestroom wasn't much cause for concern, nor was it enough to help him guess the identity of Harry's other guest. He was gearing up to ask the older man when he noticed the folded up pair of leather pants sitting neatly on top of a chair by the window. His mind quickly equated leather, Harry and the fact that he supposedly _knew_ this person and came up with only one possible answer. Even if it had been a long time since he'd needed to think about _that_ particular situation.

"Squalo?" he asked in an even tone, glancing over his shoulder at the agent. Harry raised a shoulder in reply, still not really meeting his eyes, making the blond mob boss sigh.

"I really don't have anything against it, you know." He said seriously, turning to face the man. Harry gave a single, wordless nod, making it obvious that while he _did_ understand that Dino didn't have anything to say, he had enough qualms against the situation personally. Which made Dino's eyes narrow all the more, since Harry hadn't been looking very much at ease even before their initially light-hearted conversation had turned towards their mutual friend.

He didn't ask after it, though, since he was certain that Harry would rather push his unease to the back of his mind than bring it up as a topic for conversation.

Twisting his frown into a more easy-going smile, he swung an arm over the older man's shoulders and dragged him back towards the door, signalling to Romario to follow behind them with his free hand. He left it to his right hand to inform the rest of the men stationed both in the corridor and throughout the rest of the apartment complex to follow them discreetly while they travelled to Harry's friends' home.

Not that he wasn't certain that the agent would notice their followers, but he was also certain that Harry would let the matter slide. It wasn't the first time they'd travelled anywhere together, after all. The bodyguards came part and parcel with being the Don of a mafia Famiglia, even if his men tended to be more… _eager_ than certainly loved them for it. Even if it got trying at some times, and very awkward in others.

"So, whom all are we meeting? Is it the pair of friends you've had since you were in school, by any chance? Because you've told me a lot about them…"

The smile that Harry shot up at him, even as he playfully struggled to get away from the arm wrapped around his shoulders, was gratifying. Dino gave a wide grin in response, and kept up the babble of mindless chatter all the way the until they reached the car, and through the short trip after.

x

"-And then he fell straight into the bushes below. From the second floor! And without a scratch! Can you believe it?" Harry gave a wordless snigger at the mental image that brought up, and the image of the hordes of angry women chasing after Dino's hapless subordinate, too.

"How in the world did he manage to get away from them, finally?" he asked, curious despite himself, while ringing the bell and waiting for someone to key Dino and Romario into the wards. Dino gave a smirk and cheerfully shook the arm that he had wrapped around Harry's shoulders. Harry gave a startled laugh at the way the motion made him sway back and forth.

"Probably the same way we got away from them."

"Not the same situation, Dino. Or the same women. The only reason they let us go that time was because one of the muggleborn agents with us had the sense to get the head of security to broadcast a warning about an escaped convict running wild inside the facility. The announcement worked well with the badge I had back then." He said pointedly, making the Cavallone boss stifle the inappropriate burst of sniggers that threatened to escape him. Harry rolled his eyes, and glanced over his shoulder at Romario, but the older man had as unreadable an expression as ever. He _did_ give a vaguely polite smile, though it did nothing to hide the laughter in his eyes.

Harry snorted. The boss and right hand were made for each other.

By the time Hermione finally tugged the door open, Dino had already spiralled into another amusing incident that his subordinates had been forced to report to him. This one was about the man in question being chased by pack of stray dogs while undercover. Harry was nearly in splits over the thought of the unfortunate man. It must have been horrible, needing to report a loss of cover because of a pack of dogs, of all things.

"You're Dino, then?" Hermione cut in, looking bemused. Dino treated her to a wide, guileless smile and the laidback charm that had nearly all the women he met swooning over him. Harry shook his head in poorly disguised amusement, watching as Hermione first went red, then visibly shook herself before shaking his proffered hand with a polite smile.

"Dino Cavallone, to be precise. It's a pleasure to meet you. Hermione Granger, if I'm not mistaken?"

Hermione could only blink, looking a little dazed. Harry didn't bother hiding his smirk, deciding to take pity on her and smoothly dragging the blond inside. Romario quickly followed them without a word, though he paused momentarily to offer Hermione a polite nod.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" were the first words out of Squalo's mouth, obviously, when he'd managed to get Dino inside. Fleur winced and frowned disapprovingly, but Harry noticed both Ginny and Ron covering their mouths to hide the twin wicked grins that had broken out on their faces. Clearly Fleur hadn't had much luck in making Squalo control his tongue. Not that Harry was very surprised, to be honest. Squalo didn't listen to anyone except himself.

Though it _was_ amusing to see how dumbfounded Fleur – not to mention Hermione - looked when all Squalo's words garnered was a wide, delighted smile from Dino.

"Oh, don't say that, I'm happy to see you too, Squalo!" he declared happily, all but throwing himself at the silveret and adroitly managing not to get whacked by the flailing that his action created. Harry gave a small grin, watching the two speak rapidly in their mother tongue, Dino still acting endearingly happy while Squalo was beginning to look like he was going to explode. Either that, or he was just going to stick a knife between Dino's ribs and deal with the consequences afterward.

"He's… always like this?" Fleur asked him quietly, settling into a chair beside him. Harry looked at her, a bit confused at the amount of curiosity that Fleur was showing for the silveret. He hadn't seen her this curious about _any_ of his or Ron's friends to date. Not even the multiple partners they had gone through from work before Kingsley had just decided to club them together (and, therefore, freed himself from needing to deal with their weekly tendency to partner-hop) had brought out this kind of curiosity.

"Yeah. He was being surprisingly polite earlier." He offered reluctantly. He still didn't understand why Squalo had decided to act so amicable earlier, because he knew with even a slightest hint of doubt that it _had_ been an act.

It was only after they were all seated at the table and a more proper round of introductions had gone around that Harry realised in retrospect that bringing a mob boss and his right hand to a table that also had his friends – one frighteningly sharp and the other a fellow agent from work – might have been a bad idea. Ron had gone round eyed, staring at Dino in shock ever since his surname had been mentioned in conversation, while Hermione had been glancing from Romario's silent vigil to Dino's exuberant interaction with everyone at the table with an increasingly shocked expression.

"So, how long are you in town?" Ron asked finally, and Harry was vaguely amused to note that the redhead's voice didn't carry any hint of the obvious horror he was feeling.

"Oh, I'm not sure. Not more than two days, I should think." Dino said cheerfully. Ron nodded slowly, and Hermione took up the questioning right after.

"You aren't sure?" she repeated, making Dino shoot her another one of his smiles, this one slow and pleasant. Hermione flushed a pale pink, unconsciously smiling back at him, while Squalo choked on his mouthful of herbed chicken, quickly downing a draught of water and then staring at the blond seated opposite him in disbelief.

"No, I'm afraid not. It depends on how my business meeting goes later. If negotiations are unsuccessful, I might just be leaving for Palermo tonight." Dino said with a deeply regretful sigh. Harry was reluctantly impressed. He bet anything that neither Fleur nor Ginny had seen anything suspicious about his words, since they made him sound like a businessman who just wanted some free time. The way both Ron and Hermione went white made it obvious that they didn't need any more hints to figure out that Dino's words weren't nearly as innocent.

"Enough about my trials with work; I must give my compliments to whoever is responsible for this delectable spread. Particularly this dish, I don't think I've ever tasted eggplant made in quite this way-"

Harry could only stare as Dino somehow steered the conversation into something very different from the route it had been tumbling down. He managed to pull his awed gaze away from the younger man, who seemed to be in his element as he easily drew even a very shy Victoire and an overly curious Teddy into a conversation about _food_, of all things, and stared instead at the way Squalo had his fingers curled against his temple. The silveret was beginning to look more than a little irate as the conversation continued, but amazingly he managed to keep almost any of his usually harsh comments to himself. Harry might have been worried, because Squalo wasn't the kind to hold back _anything_, but the answer was readily apparent every time he glanced at either Hermione or Ron and the way they were being drawn into the conversation despite themselves.

Squalo might have had something against the way Dino was carrying on, but the ready conversation the Cavallone boss was keeping up ensured that no awkward questions were being asked. In fact, at the rate at which things were going, he doubted anyone at the table even _had_ any dubious thoughts about the mafiosi sitting in their midst.

"Oh! What's that?"

The sudden interruption to the flow of conversation made Harry start, and he turned a questioning look towards Teddy, who was nearly falling over himself trying to get a clear look at Dino's left hand. The Cavallone blinked in open bemusement, and glanced down himself, wondering what could have caught the attention of the six-year-old, and the flash of inked flesh clearly visible now that his jacket's sleeve had drawn back during the course of the meal gave him a ready answer. Dino winced, then gave a sheepish laugh, shaking his wrist to let the cuff of his jacket slide back down enough to cover the back of his hand. Teddy continued to stare up at him, though, with a wide-eyed curiosity that did nothing to hide the gleam of intelligence that was clearly visible in his eyes. Teddy's inquisitiveness served to draw Victoire right after him, making Dino nearly groan with dismay.

"Sorry, Ted, I doubt your godfather'll be very pleased with me if I show you." He said apologetically. Teddy instantly went wide-eyed, and turned an imploring gaze towards Harry, who was poorly prepared for the onslaught. He sank down in his chair with a sigh, and shot a pleading look towards Fleur, who was looking mildly amused.

"Oh, I don't think there's anything wrong. Go ahead, Mr. Cavallone."

"Dino, please. 'Mr. Cavallone' is my father." Dino countered with a playful grimace, though Harry noticed a shred of honest discomfort in the slouch of the blond's shoulders before it was whisked away behind a showman's teasing smile. Dino tugged the edge of the jacket sleeve up again, and offered the hand for the perusal of the two children nearly wriggling in their seats with excitement.

"It goes further, right?" Teddy asked suddenly. Dino blinked, then tilted his face to the side with a small smirk, the tilt of his lips at once more honest than a majority of the cheerful smiles that had been flashing across his face for the entirety of the meal.

"Why yes, it does." He agreed, his amusement obvious to the rest of the adults seated around the table. Teddy's eyes widened enough to make him look nearly goggle-eyed, while Victoire clutched at him in equal amazement. Squalo slapped a hand over his eyes with badly hidden growl of disgust, though the rest of the table smiled at the way Dino was stringing the two along. Harry slumped lower in his seat, trying not to laugh himself.

"How far does it go?" Teddy asked eagerly. Harry choked on the laugh that had been in his throat, horrified.

"Teddy!" he snapped out, taken aback at how nosy his godson was being. Teddy winced and settled down again, marginally chastened for once. The question had had the added bonus of being enough to made Squalo double over in his seat with ill-hidden amusement, though.

"Till here," Dino said blandly, tapping his shoulder for Teddy's sake and shooting a put-upon look at the silveret right after.

Fleur and Hermione's eyebrows shot up at the obvious size of the body-art, while Ginny whistled in open appreciation.

"Is it enchanted ink all the way through or did you get it done at a muggle parlour?" she asked with interest. Dino blinked at her, confused, before turning an inquisitive glance towards Harry, who was seated beside him. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, you can get them done in enchanted ink if you go to a wizards' parlour. Muggle work, Gin," he added for his girlfriend's understanding. Ginny nodded slowly, curiosity sated, before she realised the import of what he'd said.

"Wait – you're not a wizard?" she asked incredulously. Dino gave a small smile and shrug, while Squalo gave an irreverent snort, finally straightening.

"Not the way you'd recognise it, anyway." He said with a roll of his eyes. Ginny looked even more disbelieving, but Ron interrupted before it could go any further, clearing his throat pointedly. Harry was relieved, since he would have needed to step in if the other agent hadn't.

"He'd right, Gin. They're as magical as anyone else, just not in the same way as most wizards and witches are used to." He explained with a sigh, shooting a very obviously annoyed look at Squalo. The silveret rolled his eyes and looked away. Ginny and Fleur both sat up with open interest, and Hermione's brows had lowered in a frightfully familiar look, one that had once heralded multiple hours spent in a library without rest. Harry and Ron shivered at the same time, still instinctually leery of the expression.

"Magic in Italy supposedly works in different ways," Dino offered with a wave of his hand. Squalo gave another snort, and Harry had to quell the urge to laugh. Hysterically. Magic in Italy was used solely in the fights that broke out in mafia disputes, except in the reported cases of it being used in horrendously inhuman experiments – 'supposedly works in different ways' was an appallingly understated description of it. Ron's tight smile was enough of an indication that his best mate felt much the same about the issue.

"Works in different way? How so?" Hermione asked with a thoughtful frown, and Harry could almost hear her thoughts whirling, falling into well ordered lists of questions that needed to be answered. He hastily shoved himself into the conversation before Squalo could answer. While he was certain Dino would be diplomatic enough to turn the question away, or at least soften the blow, Squalo's sharp smile and laughing eyes didn't give any indication of a like-minded willingness to soften anything.

"Sorry, 'Mione. Can't give any more details, since the International Confederation isn't willing to make them open to the public yet," he said quickly, not looking away when all three women shot him disappointed looks. Dino made a small, surprised sound.

"The Confederation's holding back information?" he asked, frowning. Harry gave a short nod, not looking away from Hermione. Squalo gave a sound of interest himself.

"Fu- really?" he asked, swallowing the expletive with a scowl when Fleur looked at him with a deceptively mild expression. Ron straightened himself, and gave a serious nod.

"They don't think it's a good idea to let anything out yet." He explained, though the wry look he shot at Dino and then Harry in turn made the sable-haired man wince slightly. The very fact that Dino had recognised the existence of a confederation was enough of an indication of his high position in the mafia hierarchy, since the confederation hadn't let its existence become common knowledge among the lower echelons of the mafia families. If Ron hadn't managed to guess Dino's identity based solely on his name, appearance and tattoos, then this last piece of evidence would definitely have been enough to mark the blond as a Don. Squalo had obviously known because of his position as the previous Battle Commander of the Varia squads as well as his current position as interim head since Xanxus had gone MIA. Which was the only information the Vongola were willing to let anyone outside the fold of the Famiglia know about Xanxus' abrupt disappearance.

"Right, that's enough of that. 'Mione, do we have anything for dessert?" Ron asked without a hint of guile or subtlety, shrugging when both Dino and Squalo shot him an amused glance, accompanied by the near-silent rustle of cloth when Romario shifted in his position against the wall. Hermione frowned at all of them, looking vaguely frustrated, before she rose up with a sigh.

"Fleur's brought some homemade apple pie, and I had some vanilla ice cream and hot fudge ready…" the instantly delighted smiles on everyone's faces went a long way to soothing her abused scholarly pride. Harry, for his part, had a beaming smile in place. Dino's fond glance made him try and tone the expression down, but the smirk on both Ron and Squalo's face made it evident that he hadn't been very successful. Ginny's affectionate smile added to the mix was enough to make him flush in embarrassment.

"Stop it, all of you. Right now."

"I wonder what he's talking about. Squalo?" Dino asked, so obviously trying to hide his laughter that Harry frowned at him.

"Not a fu- not a clue." Squalo drawled out, shooting a sharp-toothed grin at Ron when his (traitorous, damn him!) best mate gave a low chuckle of amusement. Ginny's giggles weren't much better, and neither was Teddy's smile, though Victoire looked too confused with the proceedings to add to his grief in any way.

"Still as sweet-toothed as ever, are you." Dino murmured in a teasing undertone once Hermione and Fleur had brought in the desserts. Harry rolled his eyes, tugging his admittedly larger serving towards himself and pointedly ignoring the soft smile on Fleur's face. Really. Did they all have to make such a big deal out of it?

Catching sight of the darkly amused look in Squalo's eyes as he leant back in his chair and stared at him unabashedly made a shiver course down Harry's spine. Okay. Fuck. Damn the stupid arsehole anyway. He wasn't _saying_ anything, but Harry didn't need words to know what was going through the silveret's head. Didn't the damned maniac have any sense of time or place? He quickly engaged himself in a discussion with Dino to distract himself - about enchanted ink and tattoo parlours of all things.

The blond mob boss went along with it rather amicably, with a big smile and honest, delighted interest, but the glimmer of unholy amusement in Dino's eyes told him that the younger man wasn't fooled in the least. Harry hid his grimace in a smile, turning the conversation down a path that more readily caught the blond's attention – the variations in style and enchantment used for magical tattoos seen in other countries. Ron suddenly joined in when Harry mentioned a rather infamous parlour that he'd come across in Japan while on an assignment from the Department, one that used a variation of demonic magic to bring inked figures to life. Literally. Dino looked supremely entertained by the tale, and dragged the two agents deeper into a conversation about darker magicks used in body art enchantment, and soon the conversation grew gruesome enough to draw even Squalo into it.

It quickly came to an end when Fleur noticed the gory turn their conversation had taken, and the matriarch-in-the-making swelled up into a veritable explosion that left all four men looking rather doleful and apologetic, though if the way Squalo was twitching in his seat was anything to go by, he was feeling less apologetic and more incensed. A quiet murmur from Fleur surprisingly mollified him, and Harry watched in bemusement as she somehow managed to draw him into a conversation that couldn't have been anything like the discussion they'd been having earlier, if Ron and Dino's entertained reactions were anything to go by.

"Managed to hit just the right topic to grab his attention, didn't she." Dino muttered with a grin. Ron gave a surprised huff of laughter, nodding in agreement. Noticing the confused expression that Harry was sure was playing across his features, Dino smirked at him and explained "She asked him about his knifework in the kitchen earlier."

"Oh. Hermione _did_ say that Squalo had been helping them with the salad…" Harry immediately noticed the hint of surprise in Dino's eyes before it melted away into a look of wry affection that he shot at the silveret. Squalo either didn't notice it or chose to ignore it, smiling in a strangely indulgent way when Fleur asked something.

Any other topics for conversation that came up soon wound to a slow close afterward, and before long, Harry found himself being pulled aside by Hermione while Squalo, Dino and Romario quickly set about getting their footwear back on.

"Do you have anything to say?" she asked mildly. Harry eyed her carefully, noting that she wasn't angry anymore, not really. She only looked faintly sad.

"No. Not really. Nothing to really make this any better, 'Mione." He said quietly, glancing back at where Dino was crouching in front of the kids and entertaining them with – was that a _turtle?_ It was a definite possibility, especially with the way Squalo was yelling about Dino hiding the small creature in his _jacket._ Harry blinked, shook his head, and turned back to Hermione. She had an oddly vexed expression on her face, but she shook it away with a sigh, then unexpectedly slipped her arms over his shoulders and reeled him in for a tight hug. Harry stared dumbly over her head, baffled, and it was only after a moment or two that he had the thought to lift a hand and pat her back comfortingly.

"Why do you have to do this to yourself?"

The quiet words were muffled into the material of his shirt, and he closed his eyes, feeling about as weary as Ron had seemed earlier.

"It's not like I planned this." He muttered, but went silent when she drew an arm down to thump her fist against his chest.

"That's not what I meant. Nor does it mean that I'm completely willing to accept this." She pulled away with another sigh and frowned up at him for a few seconds before seemingly deciding to let it go. At least for now. She glanced around him to stare at the way Teddy and Victoire were cooing over the turtle that Dino was holding out to them with a big, childishly gleeful smile.

"Who are they, anyway?" she asked finally, once she managed to tear her gaze away from the strange sight. Harry finally gave in to the urge to laugh – if only under his breath - at the oddness of the situation.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked her, caught between seriousness and a vaguely grim feeling of amusement. Hermione looked appropriately wary at his tone, but gave a determined nod all the same. Harry didn't bother hiding the smirk that had been lying in wait.

"Dino Cavallone, rather infamously referred to as Bucking Horse Dino. 10th Generation Head of the Cavallone Famiglia. And Romario, his right hand."

Hermione stared up at him uncomprehendingly, the information still not having sunk in, but once it did, she first went green in something that looked very much like disbelief and nausea. Then, the initial reaction quickly dissipated, and the pall of her skin abruptly warmed, then went lobster-red. He backed away in an instinctive defensive measure, just in time to avoid the crest of the explosion.

"_HARRY JAMES POTTER_ – Get _back _here!" he threw her a jaunty wave and a grin over her shoulder and was off like a shot before she could grab a hold of him and shake him down to her satisfaction. Ron's raised eyebrow when he got back to the sitting room was expected, since he'd seen Hermione tug him back into the dining area. He gave his redheaded best mate a small smile, and Ron nearly sagged in relief. Squalo had glanced up with a searching look, though he turned away just as quickly once he figured out that everything had been cleared. At least as much as was possible at this point.

He wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulders when she drew up beside him, slipping an arm low around his waist.

"So, when am I free to come home?" she asked softly. He smiled down at her, and shoved back the guilt that threatened to rear up within him yet again.

"With the number of people at home right now? In a day or two, Gin. Then we'll have the apartment back to ourselves." She smiled up at him impishly, the wickedly mischievous light in her eyes making him laugh in response. He was still chuckling when she twisted a hand in his collar and tugged him down enough to meet his lips. He blinked once, surprised, then sank into the firm motion without another thought, willingly meeting her when she teasingly darted the tip of her tongue against the seam of his lips. He welcomed the sweet, heady feeling that always accompanied all of the kisses he shared with her, and pulled away regretfully before they made too much of a scene of themselves. Fleur looked indignant enough as it was, a hand slipped over both Teddy and Victoire's eyes. Dino had a small smile tugging at his lips, and he reached out a hand to firmly shake Ginny's before they stepped out the door.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you, Miss Weasley." He murmured, suddenly formal. Ginny stared up at him, surprised by the serious look on his face, then gave a quick smile in response.

"It's been a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Cavallone. I'm sure everyone agrees."

Dino's smile lost some of the formal edge it had gained at her words, and Harry leant against the door jamb, watching as he took leave of the rest. Fleur looked delighted with his impeccable manners, and good-naturedly swatted at Squalo when he gave only a nod that barely held up to any measure of politeness, the words easily understandable by their tone even when Harry couldn't understand exactly what she said. The wide, unapologetic grin on Squalo's face made Hermione give a sudden, startled laugh, while Ron only rolled his eyes. Ginny still looked baffled as far as dealing with Squalo's mannerisms was concerned, the odd mix of brashness and (possibly) genuine niceness hidden beneath a thin veneer of vitriolic epithets something that took time to get used to, but she gave a surprised smile when Squalo chose to shake her hand instead of giving the stilted nod that he had given everyone else.

Harry stared at the silveret, wishing for once that he could understand just what went through Squalo's head sometimes, but let it go when he heard the vexed sigh that Dino gave from behind him. A glance over his shoulder showed that Dino's face was perfectly composed, though. Frowning in confusion, and no little unease, he looked back at Squalo, but the moment was obviously lost since he drew back without another word, giving only a sharp grin apiece to both Ron and Hermione, and one languid wave to both kids before he was done.

They were off soon after, once Fleur had assured him that she would drop Teddy back home before she headed back to Shell Cottage. Teddy had given him a brilliant smile and hug, darted in to give a similarly enthusiastic hug to a very bemused Dino before tugging Victoire behind himself and disappearing back inside the apartment. Harry gave an absentminded wave and smile for his part, since he would be seeing them again for dinner come Sunday, for Molly's regular weekend dinner (conducted along with the regular Friday luncheon – both an integral part of Molly's plans to keep the entire dispersed Weasley family together).

It wasn't until they'd reached the car and set off on their way that Harry asked "You didn't purposely antagonise anybody, did you?"

Squalo rolled his eyes, and tilted his head back in a bored gesture against the headrest, openly ignoring the sound of muffled laughter coming from Dino, who was sitting right behind him in the back seat.

"I'm not _Teddy._" He said snidely, making Harry snort in amusement.

"Arse." He muttered in an undertone. The gleam of the younger man's eyes when he glanced over without making any other movement made Harry's fingers tighten against the steering wheel before he consciously loosened his grip.

'You do realise you just met up with Ginny just now.' Whispered a voice inside his head. He was unnerved to notice it sounded vaguely like Ron giving him a lecture that had been tailor-made by Hermione.

Yeah, he'd met up with Ginny. But in the here and now…

He shoved the thought away before it stayed long enough to make him feel sick to the stomach - like most of the other thoughts regarding his situation tended to make him.

'But in the here and now, he's here. In front of you. And she isn't.'

He shoved that thought away, too. Because it made him feel like a hormonal teenager going after the most convenient – _Fuck._ No. Damn. Damn was better, since it didn't complete his untoward thoughts.

"You're thinking too much."

He blinked, and glanced up into the pale blue-grey eyes that were watching him closely. He glanced back when Dino gave a low, agreeable hum to go along with the silveret. The Cavallone boss was lounging back in the seat, making it look more like a throne or a royal divan than anything as mundane as a car seat. His golden brown eyes were gleaming sharply with intent, the angle making them gleam as bright as gold itself.

"I have to agree with that. Relax, Harry."

Harry blinked, breathed in slowly, then shot the two a particularly blistering look before turning his attention back to the road.

Maybe he should be a little more cautious about developing a closer bond with the two mafiosi. Because, if their perceptiveness was any indication, any long-term friendships with either of them would prove to be about as trying as his friendship with Ron and Hermione.

x

"What's a 'cursebreaker'?"

Harry stilled for a second, surprised by the question, before continuing the motion of hanging his coat inside the closet.

"Exactly what it sounds like. Someone who breaks curses for a living." He answered mildly when he shut the closet door and turned around to face Squalo. The silveret was sitting in a relaxed slouch on the bed, one leg pulled underneath himself and the other set on the ground. He had his head tilted to the side, a curious light in his eyes.

"Breaks curses?" he repeated, smirking slightly. Harry rolled his eyes, and leant back against the closet.

"It's a lot more difficult than it sounds. Nearly as difficult as what an agent's expected to do, and in some cases, a whole lot worse." He said seriously. The declaration was enough to make the mocking tilt of Squalo's lips straighten out into something more neutral. Unsurprising, since Harry was certain that the mafioso had at least a partial understanding of the kind of work he and Ron had to put in for the department. And it wasn't an exaggeration when he said that a cursebreaker's job could get more difficult. He could still remember the one time Bill had described one of the really bad missions he'd undertaken, back when he was still a junior cursebreaker. It had taken more than a few drinks to make the eldest Weasley actually describe the entire incident, which had supposedly ended with almost the entirety of Bill's team being torn to shreds by the Inferi they hadn't been expecting while breaking through the curses protecting a newly discovered tomb.

Bill had insisted that it was a one-time scenario, and that it had happened only because the team had been careless. And yet, neither his grin nor his cheerfully blasé attitude about the danger he faced in his chosen career had done anything to make his audience forget the set features of his face or the hard glint of his eyes during the description of the supposed one-off incident.

"What in the world was Fleur telling you?" Harry asked finally, once he'd shaken the vivid memory from his thoughts. Squalo hummed thoughtfully, eyes raised upwards, then gave an indolent shrug.

"Nothing much. She'd been asking after the way I'd handled the knives in the kitchen, and when I said that I had some experience with blades, she mentioned that a friend of her husband's from work was also well experienced with blades."

Harry _stared_ at him.

"What?" the swordsman asked, his earlier smirk slowly returning.

"I feel for Hermione. I really do." Harry muttered, shaking his head. His friend must have gone through hell, listening to that discussion, even if she had no clear idea about what Squalo did for a living. She didn't know any more than what had been said, after all. Unless Ron had chosen to tell her more, which he doubted, since the brunette had been completely unwilling to speak to anyone when she'd left in the morning. He glanced up again with a frown when he heard Squalo give a low snigger of laughter.

"_Why_ did you feel the need to trouble her so much today?" he asked exasperatedly. The question made Squalo shrug again, though this time it looked like he was doing so to stop himself from laughing more obviously.

"For that matter, what was that with Fleur?" Harry continued. That made Squalo pause for a moment, and Harry was bemused to note that the younger man actually looked surprised, before he rolled his eyes and looked away.

"She was very… engaging." He offered eventually.

"Engaging." Harry didn't know if he should be amused, or worried. Squalo's eyes slowly turned back to him, and he blinked once before his eyes shuttered in an odd expression.

"Anything wrong with that?"

Harry shifted against the wooden surface behind him. Was Squalo being… defensive? No, not likely, but something about the tone…

"No, not really. I was just surprised; I hadn't been expecting you to get along with _Fleur_, of all people."

The odd expression didn't leave his face. Harry sighed, lifting up a hand to rub the back of his neck.

"It's not like I have anything against it, anyway. Fleur can be a force of nature sometimes, though. You'd best be careful."

That did it. Squalo's face went blank for a moment, as if he didn't know how to react to Harry's admission, and then, his eyes lit up with something that looked frighteningly similar to glee.

"You're scared of her!"

Harry went white.

"No! No way in hell, I'm _not_ scared of her, and neither is Ron – uh."

Harry's fingers curled around the edge of the wardrobe behind him, caught between fervently denying the silveret's statement and staring in shock as Squalo nearly collapsed in the bed, choking on the force of his own laughter. He didn't think he'd _ever _seen the man so overcome with honest amusement. A few more seconds of listening to the uninhibited laughter made him relax and give a small grin of his own. It really _was_ funny, if he thought about it. But Fleur really_ was_ a force to be reckoned with, so it wasn't surprising that almost the entire Weasley clan was wary of her.

When Squalo finally straightened, he had a wide, unrestrained grin spread across his features. It made Harry's grin widen as well, at least until the other man spoke.

"And here I thought you were jealous."

_That_ brought him up short.

"Jealous? Why would I be jealous because you were getting along well with Fleur? It's not like I have any right to control whom you speak to, for Merlin's sake." He snapped out, honestly confused with the statement. Then he regretted his words almost immediately, because they made the silveret stare at him fixedly for a few moments, the odd expression back on his face.

It was gone before Harry could do anything to ask after it.

"Why indeed." Squalo muttered, beginning to looked amused all over again. Harry muttered a curse, wondering why he was having such a convoluted conversation with the other man, because Squalo completely stopped making sense sometimes. Which reminded him…

"And, why were you so harsh with Ginny, anyway?"

He bit back a particularly foul epithet when his question made Squalo's face go blank again. Was there something _wrong_ in asking about the way Squalo had spoken to Ginny? Because, he really wanted to know _why_ Squalo had seemed so… mixed in his manner of behaviour towards her. The vexed sigh he had heard from Dino before they had left Ron and Hermione's home had been enough to cement his suspicion that there was something off about Squalo's demeanour – particularly because he knew that Dino had a better understanding about Squalo's habits and actions than he did. But, whatever the reason might have been, he really didn't want to know if asking after it made Squalo act so unlike himself.

"Okay, I take back what I said. I really shouldn't be asking about all this, anyway." He muttered the last part of his statement more to himself than to the mafioso seated opposite him. Hearing the man shift on the bed, he looked up to see Squalo leaning forward slightly, face cradled in his hand and looking strangely contemplative, eyes glazed over in thought.

"What?" Harry asked uncomfortably, when the silveret's gaze suddenly focused on his face.

"Come here."

Harry's brows lowered in an uncomprehending expression, making Squalo roll his eyes and wave his left hand impatiently. The agent stepped closer warily, and then nearly squawked in shock when Squalo reached up to catch him by the wrist and drag him down onto the bed.

"Squalo, what the _hell_- Dino'sright in the next_-"_

"Zitto_._"

Harry blinked, unnerved by the abrupt switch over to the younger man's mother tongue, and even more so when Squalo slid his fingers around the back of his neck and tugged him forward.

"Squalo-"

"_Zitto."_

Harry's breath hitched in his throat, and he clenched his eyes shut, not really comfortable meeting the other man's gaze when they were so close together, forehead to forehead. And Squalo's eyes had been so quietly intense that he could feel them boring into him even when his eyes were closed. The callused fingertips of the swordsman's right hand felt like a brand on the back of his neck, searing into his skin. He shivered unconsciously, then slowly relaxed when Squalo didn't do anything more than stroke them carefully against his skin, lazily curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"You really do think too much," Squalo murmured finally, after they had been sitting quietly for a few minutes – the softly spoken words still in Italian. Harry made a face, shoulders tensing as he opened his mouth to support himself in some way, but the fingers on the back of his neck tightened in warning.

"No, listen to me. Stop over-thinking things and just fucking deal with them as they come."

Harry snorted mirthlessly, but didn't say anything, able to make out that Squalo was being dead serious for once.

"You need to stop before you work yourself into a frenzy and collapse at some point."

Harry's eyes snapped open, a harsh retort building in the back of his throat, but he was interrupted by the sound of Squalo's phone ringing. Squalo didn't let go, staring steadily into his eyes, and Harry shifted restlessly when the incessant ringing continued. It stopped for a second, then started up again.

"Harry, is that-" Harry flinched when Dino's voice called out. The last few minutes had been so emotionally tense that he'd nearly forgotten that Squalo and he hadn't been alone in the apartment.

"It's mine." Squalo called back, cutting the blond off as he backed away, pulling his hand back to reach for the phone he'd dropped onto the bedside table once they'd gotten back to Harry's apartment. Harry did his best to stare back defiantly when Squalo's eyes didn't leave his, even when he flipped his phone open to answer it. Then, the silveret's eyes darted away, and he looked surprised for only a moment before his brows lowered in a thoroughly irate expression. Harry wondered if he should use the opportunity to get out of the bedroom, even if it _did_ feel like running away, since he was quite sure that Squalo wouldn't try what he had earlier in a place where they might have an audience.

Or, at least, that's what he'd been wondering before Squalo's face went pale with shock. Harry froze, actually starting to pay attention to the words leaving the other man's mouth only at that point, since he'd been carefully filtering them out to avoid any unnecessary eavesdropping on his part until then.

"…way to free the Boss? Who the- Mammon? Are you sure? VOOOI! _Don't_ fucking yell at me, brat, just answer the fucking- When did he- Tell the fucking baby to do some more research before you- he's sure."

Squalo's words sounded dazed. Harry felt something cold slide down his spine, especially when he caught sight of Dino leaning against the doorjamb, his usually warm, mirth-filled eyes as hard as ice.

"Tell him to start work immediately. I had a flight out tomorrow morning, but- I'll see what I can do. I'll get back as fast as I can. Right. Tell Lussuria to- Yeah."

The sound of Squalo's arm lowering the phone from his ear sounded far too loud within the still confines of the room. Harry couldn't help but notice the way Squalo's fingers had enough of a grip on the phone that he feared the plastic contraption would fall to pieces solely because of the power of Squalo's hands for once, rather than the silveret wrecking his phone by throwing it at a wall instead.

"I need to get a ticket for the night flight to Palermo."

Harry swallowed, not liking the way Squalo's voice had gone blank, seemingly deadened of emotion. Forcing his mind to work, he spoke up cautiously.

"I have a contact in Heathrow; I might be able to do something."

"Please." The word was spoken so quietly that Harry almost doubted the silveret had spoken at all. He only got one glance into glazed over blue-grey eyes before Squalo braced himself against the bed and stood up in one smooth motion. Harry could only watch as he paused at the door, his eyes meeting Dino's for barely a second before the Cavallone stepped side wordlessly. Squalo stayed where he was for a moment, and Harry could see his eyes follow Dino as he moved. And then, the silveret was gone. Harry could only imagine him striding quickly towards the living room, and closed his eyes when he distantly heard the front door open and then shut right after.

His eyes shot open when he heard Dino shift where he was standing. He kept quiet, only watching as the blond lifted his phone to his ear, and didn't look away when Dino's golden-brown eyes locked on him.

He wasn't surprised when the first words out of the other man's mouth were a quiet greeting to the Vongola Ninth.

(_"__Just so you know, the Cavallone are allies of Vongola. Indebted to them, actually.")_

Dino's eyes were cold, but Harry could still see the tired cast of the younger man's shoulders. The way he was leaning against the doorjamb more for support than just for something to lean against.

He let himself slip back to collapse into the bed, staring sightlessly up at the ceiling and reminding himself to give a call to his contact. As he heard the Cavallone's voice rise and fall as he continued to speak into the phone, he mused that it was a very good thing that he'd never had any friends either in Slytherin or with dubious loyalties before the start of the war. He doubted he would ever have been able to choose between his friends and his duty the way Dino was right now. Not without hating himself in the process.

He wondered if this was how Snape had felt during the later years of the war.

Because, while he didn't know what exactly had happened to Xanxus, what few rumours he _had_ heard had been enough to tell him that whatever the outcome of the two phone calls he had been witness to today, he would be caught in a rather uncomfortable position between his friends regardless.

* * *

**AN 2:** …Um. Please don't hurt me?

Yes, Serendipity has _finally _gotten an update. With hope the size of the chapter makes up for how long it's been since I've actually updated this fic. Various reasons contributed to why I've been missing for so long, though all can be relegated to the most common one – Real Life. I'm sure most of you wouldn't be interested in the whys or hows of my absence, suffice to say that this kind of absence shouldn't occur again.

**THANK YOU** to each and every one of the wonderful people who have read and reviewed this story, and have also seen fit to favourite or follow it. I know that I haven't gotten back to several of you, but I have read and squealed over all the feedback I have gotten. A special thanks to **mabidiso**, **Conpeki**,** xxserafinxx** and **XxAlysxX. **You PMs were all very encouraging, particularly mabidiso and xxserafinxx. I am truly sorry about how long it's taken for me to show you any hint of this story NOT being on hiatus. Because Serendipity isn't on hiatus, nor is there _any_ chance of it going on a serious hiatus or facing abandonment any time soon.

**AN 3: **So, this chapter. I have a few things to say – primarily that, while it seems to be a more a filler chapter than not, it isn't. Not really. It's just one of those chapters that are less action and more information, and _important_ information, no less. A lot of the character interaction in this chapter is integral to the build-up of the story as we go, so I was understandably leery about what I was posting. With hope it's enjoyable, not too boring, and actually holds up to what you were expecting.

_**Please **_tell me what you think. It'll be a relief to know whether or not the wait's been worthwhile.

Lastly, according to all the online translators I used, 'Zitto' is supposed to mean 'Quiet!'. A more polite, and yet, still a sharp way of saying 'Shut up!', the full form being 'Stai zitto'. If any of you actually speak or understand Italian, please tell me if I've gone wrong with this? Since I don't trust online translators all that much, but it was unavoidable in this situation.

Until next time. With hope, it's not going to be anywhere near as long.


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